


Far More Than Our Abilities

by Lydia_Eve



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-01-06 06:57:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Eve/pseuds/Lydia_Eve
Summary: Delphini is released from prison six years after her incarceration. Albus doesn't know what he wants.





	1. Parole

There are suddenly less than two months until James’s ridiculous wedding, so Harry isn’t keeping upon everything at the Ministry when it happens.

Albus knows, though. He’s thought of almost nothing else for six years.

Here, on the stormy shores of the sea, he watches the boat sail towards what passes for a dock. He’s been here before. Last year, and the year before that. He’d never gone further than the shore.

It doesn’t matter. She’s the one crossing the churning waters now. Slow, down the gangway, slower down the dock. She’s in the tattered grey robes that everyone knows from the war, but as he watches, she draws some of the darkness up from the waters and fashions herself a cloak. It’s all the lone guard needs to abandon her, stumbling as he hastens back to the boat.

Somehow she still looks as grey as the sky. Her hair is black now, but her skin is lifeless, dead. Her dark eyes could have been plucked from the black rock of the island itself for all the life they have. She doesn’t even look surprised to see Albus ― if she recognizes him.

Delphini’s first free steps on the ground go unnoticed by all but one other.

She stops in front of him.

Albus clears his throat. Greetings die there in his lungs, before they get a chance to turn into breath. She’s watching him. He has her attention for now, but he doesn’t know how long that might last.

“Where will you go?” he asks. His voice is rough.

Maybe she’s confused by his presence, Albus is confused enough himself, but she only looks wary. Mistrustful. She should be.

“I have a place you can stay,” he says, looking away, back out to the sea. He can only just see Azkaban from here. He doesn’t think about what it’s like there. He thinks of other prisons. Ones you can never be set free of.

“All right,” says Delphini. It’s not her voice, the bright voice of a charming young woman, the one Albus first knew. It seems right, somehow.

He’d been prepared for this ― too prepared. Obviously he wouldn’t want to touch her for a side-along apparition. The logical solution was a portkey, but was he really going to offer _his ― their_ daughter the other end of a spatula to hold? But then why shouldn’t she? Her heritage held nothing respectable, to say nothing of her own deeds. Something from Grandad’s workshop would be too good to offer her.

He holds out a quill.

“It’s a portkey,” he says, initially planning to go with her. Instead, he steps back as she takes it. He steals a final look at her and apparates away.

If she follows, she follows.


	2. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Delphini meet again.

She doesn’t follow.

That’s all right because Albus wasn’t stupid enough to set the portkey to let her in the house. He sits in the drawing room on top of the sheet-covered sofa in Grimmauld Place, head in his hands. If the wards hadn’t gone off an hour later, he might have stayed there forever.

He _is_ stupid enough to apparate into the street when the portkey sends her to the middle of Grimmauld Place.

“The portkey was set for a minute,” he says stupidly. Everything he does is done stupidly.

Delphini frowns like he should have understood. And he does. He’d seen her make a cloak out of the sea without the use of a wand. What’s delaying a portkey? Something that Albus has never heard of.

“Why don’t you come in?” he offers.

She nods, so he tells her the location (stupidly) and the house appears before her eyes.

Albus had a vague idea now of what her childhood looked like. Her ― _parents_, God ― had money, but it seemed to have gone to her guardian as payment. She’d never known her family, their home, she’d met Scorpius, sure, but that was hardly a relationship. That said, Albus wasn’t sure if she’d care about seeing Grimmauld Place. The papers called her a sociopath, which Albus’s experience didn’t quite contradict, but they would have called her that just for being born.

The front hall is dark. Somehow they were never quite able to keep the chill out of the walls. Albus’s family had never liver here, but Dad was never able to sell it. Wasn’t able to stop himself giving his children the names of the dead.

Delphini drifts slowly through the doorway to the drawing room. The furniture is covered in white sheets, as is the tapestry, but she knows it’s there. A flick of her fingers and the sheet falls to the ground, sending up twin clouds of dust on either side.

Albus follows her like a shadow. There are so many in this house, what are a few more? He watches her examine the family tree. Her name is there, of course. _Delphini._ There’s no surname. She watches her name for a while. Albus has no idea what she’s thinking.

“This was the Black’s family house until Sirius left it to my father,” Albus says. His voice sounds strange in the heavy stillness of the room. “There’s some food in the kitchen, enough for a few days. I ― assume you can get more.”

Delphini’s dark eyes meet his now. “You mean for me to stay here,” she says.

“No, I’m _offering_ you a place to stay.” He snaps it, harsher than intended.

“Why?”

Albus exhales. “You don’t have anywhere else, right?” he counters. “Stay here if you want. Or leave.”

Delphini’s eyes bore into him. It’s a change from the deadened expression at the Azkaban shoreline. “I don’t owe you anything, Albus Potter,” she says. 

_She knows who I am,_ is what Albus thinks.

“Don’t you?” he asks.

“I didn’t hurt you. You have everyone you love. You’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Albus says, “I’m so fucking fine.”

Delphini says nothing, but her eyes remain alight. He has her attention now, which probably puts him in unspeakable danger, and all he can think is _Good._

The moment passes. Albus doesn’t say anything stupid and Delphini fails to commit Great Evil. She turns back to the tapestry. The name _Tom Riddle_ connecting to Bellatrix is blurred, as though someone tried to burn it out like the others and failed. Albus hadn’t considered what that might mean, and it’s unsettling. Like Voldemort can never be stamped out completely.

Voldemort’s daughter crouches low near the ground to better see the latest generation. Theodore Lupin, Scorpius Malfoy. Albus doesn’t want her reading those names. He should have moved the damn tapestry before they came.

“The judge told me to send an address,” Delphini says, and for a moment Albus doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The judge. Like she needs to move within the law.

“That’s fine,” says Albus. “The wards allow most Ministry officials to see the house.”

Delphini spares him another glance and nods, like they’ve come to an agreement. Apparently they have.

Albus doesn’t have anything to offer her in parting, doesn’t want to give her the time of day. When he turns on the spot to apparate, she isn’t even looking at him.

Ministry officials don’t get a chance to come to the house.

Harry’s thinking that it’s so unfortunate how perfectly matched James and Samantha are when he sets off on his errands that Saturday. Both impulsive, both with a reckless streak that Harry stubbornly asserts he didn’t get from his side of the family. Samantha’s a Muggle, but obviously found a wizard boyfriend and decided to keep him. James likes having someone who won’t talk him out of dumb shit. Samantha had asked to borrow something “not _dark_-dark, Harry, I know your story, just ― you know, a little exciting.”

Harry did know, damn it. Anything he pulled out of Grimmauld Place was likely to meet her requirements. And honestly, he liked that Samantha’d asked him and not Ginny; they were already fairly close, and Harry was desperately afraid of drifting off into irrelevance in his children’s lives now that they were adults. Now that he and Ginny didn’t live together. He could find a something borrowed for his daughter-in-law.

There are footsteps in the dust on the floor. Harry thinks nothing of this. Maybe James and Samantha have already come to scout out potential honeymoon locations. He was already planning to offer a paid trip to Bali when he heard they were talking about North Korea last week. At least Grimmauld Place was closer to home, if not less depressing.

The idea of where James and Samantha could possibly go for a honeymoon is still on his mind when he pushes open the door to the kitchen and sees her.

For all his Auror reflexes, it takes his brain a second to catch up.

Voldemort’s daughter ― with darker hair up in a bun, but utterly unmistakable ― reading the paper in his kitchen.

Harry’s wand is in his hand without another thought.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ he shouts.

He doesn’t miss, or he doesn’t think he does, but Delphini is up and coming at him as though he hadn’t said a thing.

She throws her hands up, and Harry shields, diving out of the way at the same time. He isn’t in the field much these days, but he never let himself miss training, not once. Delphini shouldn’t be as good as she is after six years in Azkaban ― though who knows how long she’d been out, why was she _here?_ ― but Harry was right not to underestimate her. He’s going as hard as he can, and she’s keeping up without even a wand.

Daddy would be so proud.

Harry throws himself back through the door of the kitchen, just to get out of her sight for a moment, but she apparates into the hall, and now they’re too close, swinging fists at each other. Harry gets his hands on her shoulders and pushes her into the wall. Her head slams back hard, but she’s apparating away even as it happens, bringing Harry with her into the drawing room.

Now they’re in the middle of the floor and they both lose their balance.

Delphini hasn’t said a word, but she’s breathing hard, eyes wild with hatred as she sends off curse after curse.

Harry’s on the defense, which is not where he wants to be in a fight. He sends another curse her way, but she blocks it. They’re both panting, shaking with power. Harry hasn’t had a fight like this in his entire career.

That’s not to say he’s never had to fight like this.

There’s a creak and a muffled snapping sound. A crack cuts across the ceiling like lightening. Harry has to fight the urge to bring Delphini with him as he apparates to the safety of the street ― he’s supposed to be mindful of the care of criminals in his custody ― but Delphini isn’t in his custody. He’s not an Auror upholding the law today. Today he’s Harry Potter and he’s fighting for his life.

The house collapses inwardly. It’s still nearly as tall, but sunken like bread that didn’t rise.

Harry only has time to note the group of Muggles at a bus stop down the street before Delphini joins him, screaming in rage.

Their fight begins anew, curses flying up and down the street. Harry can’t think of the Muggles just yet. He has to take her down before he can thinking about anything else. A handful of Muggles are more or less nothing compared to what she could do if Harry doesn’t get her now.

The crack of apparation signifies the arrival of other witches and wizards and Harry only prays that they’re somehow not with her. Surely this kind of magic has drawn the attention of the Ministry, and they’ll have Aurors arriving any second.

A flash of a camera goes off and Harry a little bit wants to kill the reporter too.

Sweat pours down Harry’s neck. If he doesn’t finish this soon, he’ll be dead. He hasn’t slowed yet, but neither has she.

He prepares to cast the killing curse again, but Albus apparates suddenly between them.

Harry is chilled in horror. He lowers his hand. Bizarrely he notices Delphini do the same.

“Al, go!” he chokes.

“Dad!” Albus cries, “Wait. Delphini, stop! Please.”

Harry’s mind is racing, struggling to make sense of Delphini’s hesitation, of Albus’s presence. A conclusion is building, but it doesn’t make any sense.

Getting his wand back up, Harry runs to the side, away from Albus. Delphini turns to face him, leaving Albus well out of the path of her stare now. Harry is about to start again when Albus throws himself back between them.

“Albus, _leave_,” Harry all but screams.

“No, wait―”

Harry goes to stun him in his panic, but the spell is blocked. When Harry realizes it’s Delphini who blocked it, his conclusion solidifies, and he nearly drops his wand. Nearly.

Delphini looks just as surprised as Harry feels, though it’s hard to tell. Her eyes are wide, darting between Harry and Albus. She’s breathing hard from the fight. Her hair has started to come down, wild around her face where it’s escaped from her bun. He’s wondering how he didn’t see Bellatrix in her sooner.

Albus approaches Harry slowly like Harry is the threat.

“Dad, what happened?”

Harry is quite sure that’s his line.

“What do you ― she’s _here_, she _escaped_―”

Albus’s expression falls. “No, she didn’t. Did she ― attack you?”

Harry hesitates, and it’s all Albus needs, apparently. “Dad…” he says, not angry, just … disappointed?

Delphini isn’t watching them anymore. The reporters and growing crowd has her attention now. Harry still can’t understand why she stopped. He fully expects her to murder the reporters who are yelling questions at her ― a respectful distance away ― a distance, Harry notes, that they never give him. Bless them, they even know who she it, having apparently known before Harry did that she’s out of prison. _Do it,_ he thinks at her.

Albus now approaches Delphini, who watches him draw closer.

“Are you okay?” he asks, to Harry’s rising fury.

Delphini doesn’t answer, but she looks over at Grimmauld Place and waves a hand at it, encouraging it to right itself. The reporters love it.

“Shall we go back in?” Albus asks.

Delphini nods and follows Albus back towards the house.

When she leans back to bare her teeth over her shoulder at Harry, he swears he’s looking at her mother.


	3. Minister for Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphini's powers are called into question.

Harry has caused more than one scene in Hermione’s office over the years, but this is probably the worst to date.

“It’s not that I wasn’t notified _personally,_ Hermione!” he shouts. “She shouldn’t have been set free at all. _She killed a guard in prison,_” he added, in case she somehow didn’t know.

Hermione looks like she has a headache. Hermione always looks like she has a headache.

“Harry, I know, we _know_,” she insists.

“Do you?”

“When I appointed Luna as the new Justice Minister, I knew she’d make a few controversial choices. I’m not saying I love the idea of Delphini being out, but I believe Luna to have a firm understanding of justice.”

“_Still?_” Harry demands.

Hermione rubs her temples.

“The guard she killed ― he was almost certainly abusing prisoners. We’ve had complaints for years.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry snaps, “my department was looking into it. Not ― killing him based off hearsay.”

“Luna believes―”

“I know what Luna believes,” Harry assures her.

He’d only read the court transcripts because he had to wait for Hermione to get to her office, but she didn’t need to know that.

Lovegood: TELL ME ABOUT CLAUDE LEPAGE.

Riddle: WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?

Lovegood: DID YOU KILL HIM?

Riddle: YES.

Lovegood: WHY?

Riddle: HE WANTED TO RAPE ME. HE RAPED OTHER PRISONERS.

Lovegood: COULD YOU HAVE INCAPACITATED HIM INSTEAD?

Riddle: I DID.

Lovegood: THEN WHY IS HE DEAD?

Riddle: IF YOU HAD FOUND HIM SOONER, HIS INTESTINES WOULD   
NOT HAVE CHOKED HIM. PERHAPS AZKABAN SHOULD NOT  
LEAVE PRISONERS ALONE WITH A GUARD LIKE THAT FOR  
SIX HOURS.

Lovegood: NOTED. UNFORTUNATELY I NEED TO BELIEVE YOU WILL   
NOT TAKE THE LAW INTO YOUR HANDS AGAIN IF   
RELEASED.

“And then she released her,” Harry says.

“Listen, Luna already told me that she believes Delphini isn’t a danger to the public. I can hardly go above her on her first week,” Hermione says.

“This is about _politics_?” Harry demands, unable to believe what he’s hearing.

“This is about a prisoner being granted parole, Harry. That’s hardly news. She’s not Voldemort. She killed someone ―”

“She killed two people.”

“―and she has done time for it. Do we need to give a life sentence to everyone? Can we not try for reform?”

“Reform,” Harry repeats.

Hermione’s eyes snap up. “Don’t say it like that,” she says. “Prison is a horrible thing, and as a society, we need to aim for less prisoners, not more. Sometimes that involves an act of faith.”

“Hermione,” Harry begins. He has a bad feeling like he just lost this fight.

“She has extremely strict parole conditions,” Hermione says, “and no, before you say it, your fight does not count. You admitted to me that you tried to kill her. I’m not going to make sure you’re punished for that, either.”

Harry folds his arms. He’s not going to apologize. “I’m not sure what we’d even do if she violates parole again,” Harry says, “seeing as how I couldn’t ― _subdue_ her.”

Hermione doesn’t flinch at that. “Then perhaps you should consider what kept her in Azkaban for six years, if indeed it wasn’t us.”

_Fuck._ Harry loved Hermione to the end of the earth, but he’d never got on with a Minister for Magic.

Back inside the house, Delphini sits down hard at the kitchen table.

“Are you hurt?” Albus asks. Her movements are jerky. She’s holding herself carefully. He doesn’t care, he reminds himself, but he can’t have her dying if it was Dad that attacked her.

“Of course not,” Delphini says, and then Albus really worries. It must be bad if she’s used three words where one would have worked.

“You are,” Albus says. “Where?”

“Harry Potter,” she begins with a sneer, “can barely hold a wand, much cause me harm.”

“Oh my God, get a grip,” Albus snaps. “I’m not going to _tell_ him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Delphini doesn’t look at him as he’s talking, stares determinedly over at the sink as though she can’t hear a word, flinches as Albus nails it.

He sits down next to her and she finally looks at him.

“I’m not,” he tells her and means it.

Delphini runs a hand through her hair near the side of her head. Albus thinks for a moment she’ll brush him off again, but she brings her hand back and it’s bright red with blood.

Without thinking, Albus surges forward and lifts the hair from the side of her face. He has a second to take in the blood running down her neck before he’s blown back into his seat.

“Don’t touch me,” she hisses.

So Albus doesn’t when she sways backwards, slipping off her chair and barely catching herself on the table. He watches, waiting. She lets out a small groan and pulls herself back onto the chair.

“Will you let me heal you?” Albus asks. “I assume you can’t heal yourself or you would have.”

Delphini glares. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she says, less force in her voice this time.

“I’m not going to beg to help you,” Albus says.

“I don’t need the help of a child,” she says, though her voice is alarmingly thin.

“I’m twenty,” he reminds her. Time has passed. She’s what, twenty-nine, thirty? Though apparently she thinks she’s a hundred with the way she hauls herself out of her chair and shuffles to the door of the kitchen.

Albus follows her into the hall, telling himself he won’t care if she drops dead.

Either the bedroom she chose is the one of the first floor, or she pretends it is because Albus is watching.

When she gets a grip on the doorframe, she turns back. Albus hasn’t moved from his position leaning against the door to the kitchen. He’s thinking about Dad’s stunner that never got a chance to touch him. He wants to ask her why, _why_, but he can’t bring himself to. He can’t leave her to die.

She’s looking like she’s going to say something, Albus really thinks she might, but she turns instead, disappearing into the bedroom and slamming the door with a flick of her hand

Albus? Albus has a problem now. Delphini might be bleeding to death on the other side of the door, but opening the door might be the cause of his own death. Dad won’t help. Mom is playing in Singapore tonight. Scorpius … No.

Albus pushes open the door to Hermione’s office. He doesn’t know it’s been less than half an hour since Harry was there. Hermione looks up in resignation as another Potter enters for round two.

“It’s Saturday, you know,” she says.

“I think she might die,” Albus says.

Hermione frowns. “Riddle?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Still at Grimmauld Place. She doesn’t want me to help her,” he says.

Hermione nods. They apparate together. The reporters are still there, but Albus and Hermione can apparate straight inside. They’ve just landed when Hermione speaks again.

“We can’t force someone to accept medical help,” she reminds Albus.

“Please try, Auntie,” Albus says. He hasn’t called her that in years. It’s the Slytherin in him, manipulating, pushing, even if it’s innocuous.

Hermione knocks on the bedroom door. Albus hasn’t asked why it’s just the two of them and not a Healer.

“Ms. Riddle?” Hermione calls. “It’s Hermione Granger, Minster for Magic.”

There’s a long silence. Albus measures it with the racing beats of his heart.

Finally. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Come in.”

Hermione glances at Albus and pushes the door open. She closes it behind her before Albus can see a thing. He sits across from the door and listens.

“I’d like to help you, Ms. Riddle,” Hermione’s voice says. It’s her politician voice ― not as scary as her mom voice, but still.

“Why?”

“You were injured by a Ministry official. It’s my duty to see that you recover.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you permit me to do an assessment spell to see how you are?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course.”

“Then no.”

Albus strains to hear. He can’t hear Hermione’s mind searching for her next strategy, but he can imagine it. Auntie is a force.

“I’m going to leave you a salve,” Hermione says. “I recommend using it.”

Another silence.

“Who is your parole officer?” Hermione asks.

“Hussein.”

“She won’t be visiting you,” Hermione says. “Given the high-profile nature of your case, I’m going to take over.”

“I read about you,” Delphini says. She sounds off ― feverish, maybe. She doesn’t start conversations. She doesn’t say much of anything.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” Hermione replies after a beat.

“I got letters in prison,” Delphini says. “Everyone wants to know about me. There are still reporters outside.”

“Yes,” Hermione confirms.

“Strange,” Delphini says. _“L'étrangeté.”_

Hermione doesn’t comment, or if she does, Albus doesn’t hear. Finally the door opens.

Albus lifts his head as Hermione closes the door behind her. Her face is a stormcloud.

“I’ll check in on her tomorrow,” Hermione tells him.

“She saved me,” Albus tells her. “Dad sent a stunner at me and she blocked it. I don’t know why.”

Hermione stops moving. Looks at him hard. “Albus,” she says, and there it is ― her scary voice ― “She didn’t save you. Your dad didn’t put you in danger. He was trying to remove you from it. Something I’d like to do right now as well.”

“Well,” says Albus. He hasn’t moved from the floor. “You can’t.”

“Go home, Albus.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Hermione stares at him hard. Albus knows what he’s saying. Hermione can’t force him anymore than she could force Delphini. People make dumb choices. They don’t always look like James and Samantha base jumping or swimming with sharks. Sometimes they look like bleeding out in a dusty bed or keeping a vigil in front of the monster’s lair.

Hermione touches his hair ― sadly, in goodbye, maybe. “Go home, Albus,” she says again, but he can tell she doesn’t mean it.

Delphini stays in the room for four days.

Albus was right in thinking she has a fever. She shouts sometimes. Hermione comes back the one time she promised, leaves after being denied again by both parties. Albus never goes in the room.

On the fifth day, Delphini emerges with a head of matted tangles and bloodshot eyes. There’s dried blood on her neck. Albus can’t see if there’s more under the black jumper she was wearing from the first day. She staggers past him without seeming to see him at all. Eventually Albus hears the shower running upstairs.

When she comes back down, she’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair is dripping, but it looks like it’s been brushed. She looks tired, but in the normal way now. There’s no sign of blood.

She stops when she sees him.

They stare at each other for a long time, Delphini’s hair dripping onto her bare feet. She looks so human it doesn’t make sense.

Finally her lip begins to curl. “Did baby Potter think that was it for me?” she asks.

Albus watches as she transforms before him, face shifting into Bellatrix’s and then she steps forward into Voldemort’s body, walking slowly down the hall towards Albus. She’s trying to scare him and it’s working.

Voldemort crouches down in front of Albus. As Voldemort shifts back into Delphini, Albus can see all the features that didn’t change at all ― how much of her father she has in her naturally. She sneers as though she knows every thought in his head.

“Go home, Albus,” she says, and Albus does.


	4. Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People worry about Albus. Delphini isn't one of them.

Harry knows three things.

One: It’s his damn house.

Two: Albus didn’t invite her to his own flat.

Three: That could change.

Harry goes to work on Monday, holds a meeting for department heads on Tuesday, throws himself into training until Friday, doesn’t check in on Albus. It’s the longest week of his life.

On Saturday he drops by Albus and Scorpius’s flat. Scorpius opens the door.

“Oh thank God,” he says.

“Hey, Scorpius,” Harry says. Things are a little awkward between them since Malfoy manor two months ago, but he’s happy to see Scorpius hasn’t lost his mind like Albus apparently has.

Albus sits on the couch, phone in hand. He doesn’t look up.

“I know all the reasons you might be angry with me,” says Harry, coming into the living room. He doesn’t take off his coat. “Care to narrow it down?”

“Try all of the above?” Albus says to his phone.

Harry makes a face. “I’m not going to apologize for any of it,” Harry tells him. “When I tried to stun you, it’s because I was trying to remove you from danger.”

“And you’re never wrong, are you?” Albus says.

“Never,” Harry agrees.

Albus rolls his eyes.

“That woman is a murderer,” Harry says. “She almost killed _you_.”

“Doesn’t seem too interested in killing me these days,” Albus says which makes Harry want to scream. Why couldn’t it have been base jumping like James?

Harry doesn’t remind Albus of Delphini’s lineage. One, Albus knows, and two, Albus doesn’t like generational comparisons. Harry feels like the murder is enough to condemn her without bringing Lord fucking Voldemort into it. Abruptly, Harry feels tired.

“Your mother said you wouldn’t talk to her,” Harry tries.

“We talked,” Albus says. “She’s doing well in Asia. I think she’s serious about Oliver.”

In a moment of weakness, Harry looks to Scorpius for help.

“Well, surely that’s not a _problem_,” Scorpius says incredulously and Harry realizes what Scorpius is talking about.

“Of course Ginny and Oliver aren’t a problem,” Harry mutters, but it’s too late. Albus has lowered his phone and is looking between Harry and Scorpius, trying to figure it out.

Scorpius freezes like a platinum blond deer in the headlights.

“What?” Albus says.

“Nothing!” Scorpius almost shouts.

Harry wonders how the kid got Sorted into Slytherin with cunning abilities like this.

“What is it?” Albus tries again.

“Why don’t we talk about the murderer you’re harbouring?” Scorpius replies.

Albus throws his hands up. “You already know everything,” he says to both of them. “All the facts. Talking about it isn’t going to change those facts.”

“Bruh, we want to know _why_,” Scorpius says.

“Well so do I,” Albus snaps. The flat is small, and his bedroom isn’t far, but when he shuts himself up in it, it might as well be in Asia with Ginny.

Even more unfortunately, this leaves Harry alone with Scorpius.

“So …” says Scorpius.

Harry closes his eyes.

“Had anymore adventures in stables lately?” Scorpius asks brightly.

“It was hardly _in_ the stables,” Harry says, if they’re going to get technical about it.

“Gran was furious,” Scorpius says gleefully.

“Yeah, I’d gathered that.”

“But Grandad’s face was the real highlight,” Scorpius says.

“I thought it was your dad’s, actually,” Harry says. He’s not sure why he says it, to Scorpius of all people.

Scorpius hesitates. “Well, I was trying not to really look at Dad, so I’ll have to take your word for it. Or,” he adds thoughtfully, “did you just mean you like his face?”

“Obviously,” Harry mutters. He needs to leave. “Listen, I’ll see you―”

“There’s been no one since Mum,” Scorpius says, and his words hang in the air. “Maybe there have been the odd night here or there, I don’t know, I don’t _want_ to know, anymore than I wanted to walk in on the two of you in the stables.”

“It wasn’t _in_ the―”

“But that’s not my point!” Scorpius looks as serious as Harry’s ever seen him, which isn’t exactly saying much, but the kid seems to be trying to make a point, and if Harry’s being honest, he’s hanging on every word. “My point is that Dad isn’t careless, doesn’t sneak off at his parents’ house at his son’s birthday. That’s not him.”

“You’re saying you don’t want someone changing him,” Harry says.

Scorpius shakes his head. “I’m saying he wouldn’t be changing unless it was a big deal.”

Jesus. Harry needs to leave ten minutes ago. “Scorpius,” he begins.

“I can hear you, you know,” Albus says from his room. Both Harry and Scorpius freeze. “And that’s a truly horrific story,” Albus adds from behind his door.

“How do you think I felt?” Scorpius cries.

“You didn’t have to _share_ it, God,” Albus returns. “That’s disgusting.”

Harry leaves.

Another week passes. Albus tries to get information out of Hermione, Minister for Magic and temporary parole officer, but Auntie is professional to a fault. Dad tries to talk to him again, but Scorpius isn’t there to open the door, and Albus doesn’t answer.

He goes to work ― he’s working for a non-profit Muggle organization because, honestly? He prefers it to the wizarding world. Scorpius bounces between jobs every six months, Muggle and wizarding alike. Right now he’s doing lighting for a production company Albus works days and Scorpius works evenings, so their flat is small for two people, but just fine for the one person who’s usually there.

So it’s unusual that they’re both there on a Thursday evening when there’s a knock on the door.

Scorpius answers, as usual. Delphini stands in the hallway of their apartment building in a plum coloured wool coat. Her hair is in a high ponytail. It would probably be easy to mistake her for a person if you didn’t know her.

“Oh, hell no,” says Scorpius, and shuts the door in her face.

Albus leaps over the back of the couch and makes for the door, but Scorpius gets in his way.

“Albus, no, think. Please.”

“Move,” Albus tells him. “You can leave if you want.”

“And won’t that be so much fun to tell your family later. Yeah, the spawn of evil dropped by, but Albus said I could go, so I swung by the pub while he was violently murdered. I’ll see you at Jamie’s wedding?”

Albus’s breath comes out hard and he resigns himself to Scorpius’s quips.

Delphini’s still standing there when Albus gets the door open again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she responds.

There’s a silence broken only by Scorpius’s judgmental presence over Albus’s shoulder.

Albus wonders if Delphini is going to talk, or if she only came by to glare at him from the doorway. It’s certainly looking that way.

“Should I ask how you found my place?” Albus asks eventually.

At that, Delphini’s lips quirk. “No,” she says.

To his alarm, Albus has to stop himself from smiling back.

“I have to go,” Delphini says abruptly.

“What?” asks Albus, caught off guard.

“Great!” calls Scorpius.

“I mean,” says Delphini with what appears to be great difficulty, “Granger comes to check. I need to be back by six.”

“You have a curfew?” Scorpius asks, clearly delighted. Delphini spares him a faint sneer. It’s clearly a family expression.

“It’s ten to,” Albus notes.

“Yeah,” says Delphini. She continues haltingly, “You were at work before.”

A sort of emotion floods through him at that. That she had been trying to find him. That she’d been respectful enough not to come to his work. Albus knows stalking isn’t romantic; he was there for James’s _Twilight_ phase. Not that this is stalking, exactly. At least he doesn’t think it is. He barely knows anything when it comes to her. There’s so little of this situation that could be considered even friendly, but here she is: at his door.

She wants something, but Albus is unusually slow on the uptake today. He’s still startled by her presence to begin with that it takes him a moment to figure out what she’s saying.

“Do you … want me to join you?” Albus asks.

“Oh my God,” Scorpius says faintly.

“No,” Delphini says, a short shake of her head, “but.” She shrugs. “You could.” Another beat. It’s eight to six now. “The last time you were there might not have…” Seven to.

Albus is clearly going to have to pull more than his weight in this conversation. “I’m not sure how turning into Voldemort and telling me to leave meant that you didn’t mind if I came by.”

“She turned into _Voldemort?_” Scorpius says, aghast. “Ugh. Yeah. That’s going to make you friends,” he adds to Delphini.

Delphini is clearly more than ready to leave. It’s the most she’s spoken to Albus since six years ago, and Scorpius’s commentary can’t be good for anyone, even if it’s warranted.

“Okay, well,” says Albus. He isn’t about to follow her back like a fucking puppy. “Good to know.”

She looks at him. He can tell she sees the dismissal in his words.

“Voldemort…” says Scorpius, still having a moment.

She’s going to apparate, or whatever the hell she does to travel, but she takes a moment to look at Scorpius.

Her mouth opens, then closes. She’s clearly trying not to say it. Scorpius actually shuts up to wait to see if she does.

“He isn’t Voldemort,” she says at last, “to me.” And she’s gone in a ― no, there’s no crack of apparation. She’s just gone.

Albus closes the door.

“That was sweet,” Scorpius says.

Albus turns to snap at him, tell him off, something, but he sees that Scorpius is shaking.

“Hey,” says Albus softly.

“She almost killed us,” Scorpius says. His voice is almost a sob. He looks heartbroken. “I’m so scared for you.”

“I’m sorry,” says Albus, and moves in to hug Scorpius. Scorpius shakes and holds on. “I’m sorry,” Albus repeats.

“Please say you won’t go back,” Scorpius says. “Please―”

“I can’t,” says Albus, breath hitching himself. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Please.”

“I can’t,” says Albus. “I can’t.”


	5. Keeping Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Delphini come close to discussing the past. Harry and Draco don't.

It makes total sense to be here, Harry thinks as the elevator opens in the penthouse of a gorgeous London condo. It belongs to Draco Malfoy, of course. You can take the prejudice out of the Malfoy, but you can’t take the Malfoy out of his money, isn’t that the family motto? Couldn’t be worse than_ Toujours pur_. Honestly.

“Draco?” Harry calls, coming into the flat proper.

Draco comes around the corner, smiling a little. He’s wearing a perfectly cut charcoal suit. Harry’s mind drifts momentarily back to the Malfoy stables.

“Do you always dress like that first thing in the morning on a weekend?” Harry asks.

The Potter family motto is still shoot first and ask questions later.

Draco’s smile wavers a little. “It’s nearly eleven,” he says. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Right,” says Harry. “Sorry. I mean, it looks ― yeah.” _Shut up, shut up, shut up._

Draco frowns. “Do I come around yours and judge your weekend choices? Or do you wear those ghastly Auror robes at home too?”

Harry’s not exactly on official business, but he wore the uniform to make his visit more legitimate. He has a reason to be here; it’s not a social call.

“I’m here because―”

“You said in your letter why you’re here, and the answer is no,” says Draco, no longer looking even a little bit friendly.

“You’re not even supposed to have a Time-Turner,” Harry points out.

“Good thing I used it to help save your son, then,” Draco reminds him.

“That doesn’t mean ― look, Draco, Delphini is out of prison. I’m worried she’ll try to bring back Voldemort again.”

Draco looks troubled and turns instead to the glass walls surrounding the living room and overlooking central London. It’s sunny, but there’s no light that Draco doesn’t shine in, as far as Harry’s concerned, and oh my God, did he really just think that?

“Please,” Harry says.

“It’s safe,” Draco says, still looking away.

“Listen, I won’t take it,” Harry says, thinking, “but let’s make it safer. She’s so powerful. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Draco looks back. “What were you thinking?”

“Fidelus,” Harry says. “Let’s get a Secret Keeper.”

Draco seems to consider this. He sits on the arm of the cream-coloured couch that might have cost the same as the damn penthouse. “Who do you have in mind?”

Harry didn’t have someone in mind. Plan A was to get the Time-Turner from Draco and toss it into the tracks of the underground.

“Someone,” Harry says, “unexpected, I guess. Lots of people don’t want Voldemort coming back, but we want someone who’d be afraid of him targeting them personally. Obviously,” Harry says at Draco’s look, “it shouldn’t be me.”

Draco snorts. “Obviously,” he repeats.

Harry rolls his eyes. Things had been good with Draco for six years. They’d been ― well, friends. They’d usually have a few days on holidays with the boys ― Quidditch World Cup that one year when Harry and Ginny were still together, and a Muggle football match another (which was all kinds of worth it. To begin with, Draco wore this same suit.)

Until Scorpius’s birthday at the manor and tequila shots and “not in the stables, come here” and collapsing just outside in a pile of hay.

Draco has a considering expression like something has just occurred to him.

“What?” Harry asks.

“My father,” Draco says.

_Gross,_ thinks Harry, but he’s unable to immediately refute it.

“The Dark Lord would certainly be angry with him,” Draco says. “Something I’m sure Father’s considered.”

“And he’s unexpected,” Harry finishes. Giving the thing to a Death Eater, Lucius I-didn’t-know-what-was-in-that-bag-officer Malfoy, was an admittedly brilliant idea.

“Fine,” says Harry. “That works. Can I trust that this will get done soon? Like, today, even?”

Draco blinks. “If you trust me to do it at all,” Draco says. “I thought you’d want to see for yourself.”

Yeah, but then he’d have to spend more time around Lucius Malfoy, and frankly the last time Harry had seen him, Harry’d been hastily adjusting his robes so Lucius didn’t see his dick. He was in no mood to see him again, and besides: “I trust you,” Harry says, means it.

Draco looks startled, pleased maybe. It’s hard to tell. In any case, he doesn’t offer anything in return aside from a curt nod, and great, they were back to that.

“Well, great,” says Harry. “Thanks. I’ll get going then.”

Draco walks him back to the lift.

While they wait for the lift to reach the penthouse, Harry turns a little, watching Draco out of the corner of his eye.

“You could, you know,” Harry says, turning back to the lift doors and addressing them instead.

“I could what?” Draco asks.

“Come around mine,” Harry says. “Judge my weekend fashion choices.”

Harry turns in time to see Draco’s smile make another appearance, and yeah, it’s like the sun coming out from behind the fucking clouds. Harry can’t stop looking now.

“Well,” Draco says, desperately trying not to look so pleased, “maybe I will.”

“Yeah?” asks Harry, smiling himself now.

The lift doors open. Harry’s cautiously thinking he has a chance of making a smooth exit.

“If you think you could handle it,” Draco adds airily. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Harry grins. “You wish.”

Albus comes by Grimmauld Place under the guise of bringing Delphini fresh food. She’s reading the paper in the kitchen when he arrives but she’s big enough to nod in his direction when Albus pushes open the door.

Albus isn’t sure what he expected. He’d asked her if she wanted him to come by and she’d said no, just that she didn’t mind if he did. Whether that was the truth, or she really wanted him there, Albus wasn’t sure. Obviously he’s not going to ask again. He reminds himself that she didn’t need to say anything, but she’d come by his flat to invite him back. Sort of.

He unpacks the food he brought. She’d been here over two weeks and there’d barely been anything here to begin with, so she can clearly feed herself, but it’s not like he has a better reason to come by. She continues to read as he puts the carrots and green beans away.

He’s noticed the kettle is recently boiled, so when he’s done unpacking, he pours himself a cup of tea and sits at the other side of the table.

Delphini looks at him when he sits, watches him stir the cream into the dark liquid. Albus looks back, taking in her grey hoodie and jeans. She breaks eye contact to look down at the bowl of sugar next to her stack of newspapers, jerks her chin at it, and turns back to the paper as the bowl slides neatly over to Albus.

He stops himself from thanking her. “How did you get so good at magic?” is what comes out instead.

She lowers the paper, stares over at the wall for a moment before turning to look at Albus.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. Somehow it’s more of an answer than he thought he’d get.

“Do you even have a wand?” Albus asks.

“No,” she says, not quite returning to the paper. She frowns a little. “I’m not allowed to have one. One of my conditions.”

“But you’re allowed to do magic?” Albus asks. “That doesn’t quite make sense.”

“I’m a witch,” Delphini says. “I _am_ magic.”

Albus considers this. Makes sense, he supposes. It’s not like the Ministry can stop that anymore than they can stop her from growing hair or taking a piss. Though she still doesn’t seem quite real enough to engage in such lowly human activities.

He thinks she’s going back to her reading when she adds, “I’ve never really used a wand. I only had one ― before ― because it would have seemed weird if I didn’t.”

Albus didn’t want to talk about _before_. Or ― he did, but he doesn’t want to talk about it today. He is kind of eager to learn more about her crazy good wandless magic.

“You were homeschooled, right?” Albus asks.

Delphini makes a face. “Not really,” she says, and goes back to her paper.

Albus sips his tea. It’s too hot, which had always been his preference. The last few years anyway.

He grabs a newspaper from a pile on the chair next to him and realizes it’s from four years ago. His mum and her team wave on the front page, victorious after their World Cup win. There’s one underneath of Uncle Ron and Uncle George opening their new shop in Dublin. Albus doesn’t like the idea of Delphini sitting in a dark house with nothing but parole conditions and pictures of Albus’s family.

“Are you seriously reading every paper in the last six years?” Albus asks.

Delphini doesn’t look at him this time. “Knowledge is power,” she says behind the page.

Albus snorts. “You sound like a Ravenclaw,” he says, wondering if he should be concerned about the “power” part of her sentence. He decides to keep it in mind. Then he remembers the homeschool. “Oh, a Ravenclaw is―”

“I know what a Ravenclaw is,” Delphini says, a little sharply.

“Of course,” Albus says. “You’re so powerful, so you must know everything, right? Or is it only the other way around?”

Delphini looks annoyed now, and it’s strange to see a different expression on her face aside from her usual impassive stare.

“There’s no power in prison,” Delphini says, clenching a little around her words.

“Like, what, wandless magic?” Albus asks. “Time travel? Raising the dead?”

Delphini’s paper snaps shut and she stands almost as quickly.

“I said I don’t owe you anything,” Delphini says, towering a little. She’s on the tall side for a woman, but that’s not it. “There’s more to power than just magic, you imbecile.”

“Are we just talking knowledge?” Albus asks, calm, despite Delphini’s growing anger.

“Is there something you want to say?”

“I just fucking said it.” He’s angry, too. Furious.

“You want to know what I’m planning,” Delphini says with a sneer. 

“Yes. I want to know who’s on the chopping block this time,” Albus returns. “Craig’s dead, so’s that guard. Who’s next? You almost killed my dad the other day.”

“If I wanted to kill your _dad_, I would have.”

“I don’t know,” says Albus. He’s livid, furious from _before_, but he’s seated, casual. It’s easier now that Delphini’s losing control of her own anger. “Dad’s hard to kill. You should ask ― oh. I guess there’s no one for you to ask. Just a bunch of old newspapers, right?”

Delphini’s expression is volcanic. She looks ready to break the house again. The table’s shaking, but Albus isn’t sure which one of them it is.

“Am I wrong?” Albus asks, grins just a little. He’s near suicidal, apparently, but he doesn’t care. He wants to see if she’ll explode.

Then suddenly, it’s gone. The shaking, the fury, the presence of expression on her face. The kitchen’s gone silent and Albus is so disappointed it hurts.

When Delphini waves a hand to vanish the papers, it’s casual, and Albus hates that their roles have been reversed because he’s shaking himself now. She leaves the kitchen just as calmly, like she hasn’t a care in the world.

Except he saw it for himself. He knows that’s not true.


	6. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ * ~ WARNING: sexual assault ~ * ~

Harry actually still has to get something for Samantha. He thinks about this, staring at the report on his desk, not seeing a goddamn word. He had a firecall with Ginny last night and she mentioned getting gifts for everyone in Jakarta, and now Harry was reminded of the thing he’d been asked to contribute.

_I need to get something from Grimmauld Place. Do you think I can go?_ Harry texted to Albus.

_I don’t know. She doesn’t like you._

_That’s fine. Will she attack me?_

_Honestly, I don’t know._

So Harry had sent a letter to Delphini herself. He’d pulled out the parchment, dipped a quill, and wrote a fucking letter to Voldemort’s daughter. Christ.

_I need something from my house. I’m going to come by today around 5._

_Harry Potter_

He doesn’t like it, but it will do. He isn’t about to ask her permission, and he certainly isn’t going to ask Al to accompany him.

Instead he asks the Aurors.

At 5:01 pm, Harry strides into 12 Grimmauld Place with three of the guys from Special Ops. They find Delphini in the drawing room and she leaps to her feet.

“Don’t,” Harry snaps, wand out. “I don’t want to fight.”

Delphini sneers, face twisting. Her arms hang down by her sides.

Harry lowers his wand. “Graham, Dawson, you guys stay with her. Ramirez, you’re with me. Riddle,” Harry adds, working hard to say that name at all, “don’t you dare follow me.”

Harry and Ramirez head off to the living room on the second floor where Harry is pretty sure he left Regulus’s fake horcrux. It’s not dangerous, exactly (like Harry is going to give his daughter-in-law some dark artifact) but it was used in the war to fool Voldemort himself. Harry’s pretty sure the glamourous story attached to the locket will be enough to interest Samantha.

It only takes a few minutes of searching before Harry finds it. He nods to Ramirez and they head back downstairs to get the others.

His eyes find Delphini. She’s pushed back against the wall in the drawing room, the two Aurors in front of her. For a second he thinks they’ve subdued her or got her in custody, but his eyes drop to Graham’s fingers rucking up Delphini’s robes and Dawson’s hand around her throat.

“Not so dangerous now, are you?” Dawson asks her.

“_Expelliarmus!_” Harry shouts, and the two Aurors are instantly disarmed. Harry curses himself. “I mean, _Stupify!_”

They drop to the ground.

“Fuck,” Harry swears, striding over to the unconscious Aurors. “Are you okay?” he asks Delphini.

She nods.

“Fuck,” says Harry again, running his hands through his hair. Ramirez springs into action, retrieving the two wands and putting magical cuffs on her colleagues. Harry is grateful.

“Do you want me to bring them back, or should I call Dawlish to come in for a report here?” Ramirez asks.

“Take them,” Harry tells her. “I can take her statement. No,” he adds, thinking about the massive conflict of interest that will be, “wait. Dawlish should do it, you’re right. Don’t have him come here, though. Riddle can come by.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ramirez. “Anything else?”

“The Minister is going to kill me,” Harry tells her.

“Sir,” says Ramirez, and apparates with the detainees.

Harry looks at Delphini, who hasn’t moved from the wall. “I am,” Harry says, “so fucking sorry.”

Delphini’s eyes widen.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

Delphini gives a sort of shrug. Harry’s trying to remember his training. There are words he’s supposed to say. Remind her it’s not her fault or something. Explain the due process. Fuck.

“They didn’t get far,” she says.

Harry remembers something. “Is … that what happened with Claude Lepage in Azkaban?” Harry asks.

Delphini gives him a scrutinizing look. She must be suspicious of Harry. She definitely does not like him.

“Yes,” she says at last. “He didn’t get far either.”

“Why did you―” Harry stops. Rephrases. No. There’s no way to ask why she didn’t do the same to Dawson and Graham. It’ll just sound accusing. Apparently the training stayed with him after all. “This was not your fault,” he adds.

Delphini gives him a look like he’s insane.

“Erm,” Harry adds. “We’d like your statement,” he says. “Are you able to come down to the Ministry?”

“Are you kidding me?” Delphini asks.

Harry looks at the ceiling for help. “No,” he assures her. “We can go together if you’d like.”

Delphini’s expression looks exactly like the one Harry’s brain is making, like she can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

“Do you know who I am?” she asks.

Harry meets her gaze, annoyed this time. “Everyone’s entitled to protection under the law. Voldemort would have received a fair trial if he’d lived, too. No one’s supposed to come here and try to ― to kill you,” he says, exhaling heavily. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. You surprised me. I thought you’d escaped and come to finish what you started. Forgive me.”

Now she’s really looking at him like he’s insane, and honestly, Harry feels the whole thing is surreal too.

A long moment passes. Delphini is watching him, clearly trying to decide how to take his words. She has her mother’s dark eyes, a tilt to her lower lip that reminds Harry of her father, but unlike them, she’s not trying to kill Harry. He has no idea what she’s doing, living in this house, if she’s still interested in going back in time for her parents, but she’s owed justice ― legally and morally. Like they all were.

“I’ll go to the Ministry with you,” she says at last.

They apparate simultaneously, but not together. Harry isn’t about to bring her in the employee’s entrance, so he clenches his teeth and pushes open the doors to the atrium, holding one for Delphini.

The effect is immediate. There’s always a reporter or two at the Ministry, but unluckily, the head of the Wizard-Muggle liaison office is giving a brief press conference and there are over a dozen reporters in the Ministry.

Any reporter worth employing has a sixth sense for Harry Potter’s presence, and they seem to turn as one like a flock of overzealous birds with microphones.

Harry has just enough time to mutter a hearty “fuck…” under his breath before they’re surrounded.

“Harry, can you tell us what you’re doing with Voldemort’s daughter today?”

“Harry, is it true Voldemort is coming back?”

“Delphini, love, can you look at the camera?”

“Ms. Riddle, what can you tell us about Claude Lepage?”

“Harry, is this how you’re moving on from Ginny?”

“Delphini, can you actually prove that you’re Voldemort’s daughter?”

They’re going to be slaughtered if they keep up like that. He has no idea what they’re doing taunting with questions like that. Do they want to be struck dead? And then there’s what Delphini might do to them.

“Don’t talk to her,” Harry snarls, pushing one reporter bodily aside. He’s got an arm hovering near Delphini’s back, but he’s being so careful not to touch her. Don’t touch sexual assault victims was definitely in the training. “You don’t have to talk to them,” he says to Delphini, raising his voice over the din.

“Delphini, can you tell us about your relationship with Albus Potter?” one reporter calls, turning Harry’s and Delphini’s heads as one.

The reporters sense blood in the water and press in. “Delphini, you tried to kill Albus Potter six years ago.”

“Riddle, are you using Albus to get revenge on his father for killing yours?”

Harry’s heart is racing. Are they fucking giving her ideas? He wants to stun them all, take the assault charge, why not.

“My father’s not dead,” Delphini tells them, and does something dreadful. There, in the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort materializes, standing where Delphini was, glaring down at the reporters.

Screams fill the air, the reporters trip over themselves trying to get away. Someone shouts a stunning spell. It doesn’t have a chance to hit them.

Harry’s smile is widening at the scene around him. He’s still grinning when he catches Voldemort’s eye.

“Too much?” Voldemort asks.

“Nah,” Harry says, still grinning. “It’s perfect.”

Dawlish takes Delphini’s statement. He’s been here a long time and Harry trusts him. While Dawlish talks to Delphini, Hermione, as predicted, kills Harry dead.

By the time he emerges from her office his ears are ringing faintly. Harry goes into his office to take a moment and finds Delphini waiting for him.

“Jesus,” he says, startled. At least she’s not still wearing her father’s face.

“They said I could wait for you here,” she said.

“On my desk?” he asks.

Delphini shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t―” she says, “I don’t _have_ to stay at your house,” she says.

“Oh,” says Harry, wondering with horror if she got an invitation to Al’s apartment after all. “Er. I don’t care,” he says. “I’m never there.”

Delphini takes this as consent, apparently. She nods, and after an inscrutable look at him, she vanishes, blowing through the anti-disapparation wards.

His phone vibrates. It’s Albus.

_Is it true?_

_You know I can’t talk about work._

_Is she okay?_

_I don’t know._

_Medically?_

_Yes. Please, Al, I can’t say more. Hermione will kill me._

Albus is ridiculously relieved when his dad’s texts come in, but he tries not to think about it. It’s clear she hasn’t been injured, not that he was able to help her when she was. Besides, they are on worse terms than when she first got out of prison. He can’t go running over there.

He manages to wait til his lunch break the next day.

“Delphini?” he asks, pushing open the door to the kitchen. She’s not there, not in the drawing room, the bedroom door is ajar, and he doesn’t go in, but he sees that it’s empty. He’s checking the attic when movement catches his eye in the back garden.

He finds her smoking a cigarette when he opens the back door. No one has been in the garden for years as far as he knows, and there’s only a small stretch of stone that hasn’t been overrun by weeds. On it is a plush armchair.

She looks up at him as he comes to the side of her chair.

“Why is it that you’re always around at the worst times?” she asks, exhaling smoke as she speaks.

“I came to see how you are,” he says. “The papers said you were there to give testimony against an attacker.”

Delphini nods. “Yep,” she agrees, staring out at the weeds now.

“Those things will kill you,” Albus says when it’s clear she’s not going to say anything.

“I assume you smoke then?” Delphini asks, holding out a pack of cigarettes towards him.

Albus doesn’t, but he takes a cigarette. “I’m not trying to kill myself,” he says, lighting the cigarette with his wand. He transfigures a twig into a chair and sits next to her. It’s not a fucking velvet armchair like the Dark Lady, but it’ll do.

“Then why are you here?” she asks, actually turning her head a little to glance at him. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

Albus takes a drag of his cigarette. “Maybe a little. Should I be?”

Delphini lets out a faint snort. “I could kill you with a thought,” she points out.

“But that’s kind of it,” Albus says. “You’re trying to scare me than anything else. I don’t think you would if you really wanted to hurt me.”

“No?” she asks vaguely.

“You stopped my dad’s stunner,” he says.

Delphini shrugs, has nothing to say to that.

They continue smoking. At one point Delphini looks over at Albus as she takes a drag. Her expression is closed off, but she’s watching him, looking for something, maybe. Albus looks back.

At last she finishes her cigarette. She throws it neatly into the garden where it vanishes before it can hit the ground.

She stands. “Albus,” she says, not looking at him. He takes a final puff of his own cigarette. “Today isn’t good.”

“Okay,” he says, standing himself. His break is almost over anyway.

“Tomorrow,” she adds, as she concentrates on vanishing the chairs, “would be better.”

She’s always closed, vague, silent, but Albus thinks he gets her meaning.

“Okay,” he says again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	7. Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus makes some big realizations. Harry and Draco get sexy.

Draco Malfoy is at the door when Harry answers. Since Harry and Ginny split, he’s been living in a modest, two-bedroom London townhouse. The boys have their own place, and Lily rarely stays at Harry’s on school holidays, so it’s perfect for what Harry needs. Best of all, the press haven’t figured out its location yet.

“Hey,” he says, pleasantly surprised.

“Hi.” Draco isn’t smiling.

“Come on in,” Harry says, opening the door. Draco looks around. Whenever they’ve been together with the boys, it’s usually somewhere public, Malfoy Manor notwithstanding.

They head into the living room. Harry switches off the television he’d been watching. He’d paid a decorator to do his thing with the furnishings, but Draco in that suit makes the whole place look like a barn. Which gets him thinking about stables. Draco panting under him in the stables.

“Tea?” Harry asks. “Beer?”

“No,” Draco says. He’s not looking at Harry. Not a good sign.

“What’s up?” Harry asks carefully. “Did it go okay with the Time-Turner?”

“Yes,” Draco says. “It’s hidden. She won’t find it. That’s not it. I just want to … to tell you that what happened at my parents’ won’t happen again. I don’t know if that’s what you were expecting inviting me here, but I thought I’d be clear.”

“All right,” Harry says slowly. He’s disappointed, but he’s pushing that feeling deep down where he doesn’t have to think about it right now.

Draco watches him for a moment. “I should go,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” Harry says. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Potter…” Draco says heavily.

“Don’t _Potter_ me,” Harry snaps. “What’s wrong? People make drunken mistakes all the time. We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

“Exactly,” Draco snaps back. It’s an agreement, but Harry has the distinct impression they’re talking about different things. Draco’s already whirling back to the front door when Harry’s brain catches up.

“Draco! Draco, wait,” Harry calls. Draco stills, hand on the door handle. “Do you … want to make it a thing?”

“Articulate as ever,” Draco mutters.

Harry grins, though Draco’s still faced away and can’t see him. Harry slips between him and the door so they’re facing each other now. Draco can always apparate out, but Harry doesn’t think he will.

“Do you want it to be more than a drunken mistake?” Harry asks, watching Draco closely.

“No,” Draco says, but Harry doesn’t believe that either.

“No?” Harry asks softly. His eyes flick down to Draco’s lips.

Draco looks a little panicked. They’re standing close in the entryway, closer than really made sense. Harry’s starting to smile a little. He loves being right.

“Listen,” Draco says, voice dropping in a way that is probably unintentional. Harry loves it. “Harry. I don’t…” He swallows, loses what he’s going to say.

“I don’t want to make any promises,” Harry says, still soft, “but why don’t we try it?”

“You must see it would be sheer madness,” Draco says, trying to pull away from Harry. He doesn’t go far.

“Why?” Harry asks. “The boys already know. We’re not on opposite sides of a war. We’ve been friendly for six years now. We don’t have to, obviously, but I’d like to.”

Draco gives a weak laugh. “You would?”

Harry bites his lip, nods. He hasn’t been thinking about much else for weeks now. Draco Malfoy: his obsession once again.

“God, Harry,” Draco says, huffing out a breath.

“Is that a yes?” Harry asks.

Draco throws a glance to the ceiling like there’s an answer there. “Yes,” he says.

Harry smiles. He reaches out and hooks a finger in Draco’s belt loop and tugs him closer. Draco clearly takes his meaning because he immediately crowds Harry against the door, arms leaning on either side of Harry’s face.

“I’ve wanted you…” Draco whispers, and kisses him.

Harry smiles into the kiss. He’s feeling lightheaded with happiness which would be embarrassing if Draco wasn’t making needy little sounds like he can’t get enough. Harry angles his head and their tongues slide together. Harry’s hands are on Draco’s expensive suit, tugging at the jacket that Draco helps him maneuver off without breaking the kiss. It falls to the floor in a heap.

Technically they were interrupted last time before they could do much more than begin to undress. Plus they were drunk and outside in the winter. Harry has a (made, even) bed upstairs that he’s currently thanking God for.

Draco pushes Harry into the door with his hips, indicating a rather noticeable interest in the proceedings. Harry moans into Draco’s mouth, pushing back just enough to get some friction.

They’re pulling at each other’s clothes and rocking together and it’s so much that Harry isn’t sure there’s going to be enough time to make it to the bedroom.

“Tell me what you want,” Harry gasps between kisses.

“You,” Draco returns without hesitation. “You, Harry. Please.”

Harry groans as Draco’s fingers wind into his hair, pulling just hard enough. Harry’s just got Draco’s shirt unbuttoned when Draco drops to his knees.

“Can I?” Draco asks.

“Can you?” Harry repeats. “Seriously?”

Draco laughs, his face breaking into a grin. Harry’s thinking how beautiful he is until Draco gets Harry’s trousers open and Harry’s not thinking anything at all anymore.

Draco’s mouth is hot and wet and Harry’s head hits the door as it falls back. “Oh my God,” he says, his hands going to Draco’s hair. Draco moans around Harry’s cock and clenches his fingers on Harry’s thighs. The sight of Draco on his knees is so erotic Harry has to gasps out “Wait, stop.”

Draco leans back, resting his weight on his feet. Harry joins Draco on the floor, knowing he should really suggest the bedroom, but it seems the cold tile is going to have to do.

“I want to fuck you,” Harry says before he brings their mouths back together.

Draco is moaning with every slide of their tongues. Harry can feel him shaking.

“Do it,” Draco says.

Harry pushes Draco gently to the floor on his back and gets to work on Draco’s trousers as quickly as he can. He pushes them down around Draco’s knees along with his pants. Draco immediately kicks them off. “Please, Harry,” he says.

Harry’s a little bit transfixed by the sight of Draco’s cock, red and fat against the pale skin of Draco’s abdomen. It’s here that Harry realizes he’s in way over his head.

“I’ve never done it with a man,” he says.

Draco’s eyes go wide with shock. “What?”

Harry laughs a little. “Yeah. I mean, have you?”

Draco’s still looking at him like he’s grown a second head. “I’m gay,” he says.

Harry’s surprised. “But ― Astoria. I mean, it’s none of my business―”

Draco sits up a little on his elbows. “We both were,” he says slowly. “Obviously we didn’t want to advertise with all the rumours that we weren’t having sex. I loved her, but we were never like that except to get Scorpius.”

“Oh,” says Harry.

“Are you ― even sure you want to do this?” Draco asks. He’s no longer looking at Harry, which is a bad sign.

“Yes!” Harry says. “I just ― don’t have a lot of practice.”

Draco bites his lip. “I should go,” he says.

Harry’s speechless ― and still desperately aroused ― but he’s not going to beg for it. “All right,” Harry says.

He doesn’t watch Draco do up his trousers, shrug back on his coat. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s awful. He wants to ask Draco what he’s thinking, if they’re still going to give it a shot ― not like they really confirmed what any of that meant before they started taking their clothes off. Harry feels like an idiot.

“Bye, Potter,” Draco says as he leaves, and Harry doesn’t correct him.

~*~

Albus knocks on the door at Grimmauld place the next day, and to his surprise, Delphini opens it almost immediately.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he replies, taking in her jacket and boots. “Are you going out?”

“I was wondering if you can help me get a mobile phone,” she says.

“Oh,” says Albus, startled, but not unhappy, “yeah. I guess we could do that.”

“Great,” she says, and closes the door behind her, locking it with a wave of her hand.

They walk to the tube station in silence because Albus is still weighing the idea of taking Delphini Riddle into the Muggle-filled public. He reasons she’s not any more of a danger today than she has been since getting out of prison. She could have committed mass murder at any time. A voice in his head that sounds like Scorpius calls him an idiot.

Albus watches Delphini navigate the turnstiles in the underground out of the corner of his eye. It’s clear she’s taken Muggle transit before, which he’s perversely fascinated by.

By the time they arrive at Westfield mall, they’ve managed to exchange about eight words. (Including the memorable time when Albus said _bless you_ after a sneeze and she asked _what?_) Albus has refrained from pulling out his own phone, but mostly stopped himself with the knowledge that it wouldn’t work in the underground anyway.

Albus knows that she was assaulted yesterday. Somehow the guards dad brought are now facing charges for sexual assault. The papers said they didn’t get far. Albus receives annual lectures from Aunt Hermione on how to talk about rape and male privilege and inappropriate ways to refer to a house elf, so he’s ready if Delphini wants to talk about it. Somehow he doesn’t think she will.

He holds the door open for her because his parents raised him properly to hold doors and not open _bejeweled_ to relieve awkward train rides.

“We can probably find a kiosk in here that would work,” Albus says over the thrum of Muggle shopping. Being in a huge shopping centre there are probably a few witches and wizards in here too, but it’s big enough that Albus is hoping they won’t be noticed. They’re both dressed Muggle, which will help.

“Okay,” Delphini says, striding forward without hesitation. It’s this on top of the turnstiles and the fact that he’s seen her in wizarding robes maybe twice ever that cements his suspicions.

“You’ve been here before?” he asks.

“Yes,” Delphini says, pausing in front of a mall directory. “A lot of the stores have changed though.”

“You’ve been here a lot,” he says.

“My ex used to work here,” she says, reading the directory.

It’s the first piece of real information she’s ever offered about herself and it hits Albus like a fucking train. She was 23 when she was arrested ― older than Albus even is now ― and she must have had a life, friends, hobbies. Albus suddenly wants to know about all of it.

“Was he ― or she ― Muggle?” Albus asks, unable to help himself.

Delphini looks at him, glancing away from the directory. He expression barely changes, but he can sense her amusement anyway, hear it in her voice when she says, simply, “Yes,” and offers nothing else.

Great. Now he’s made a fool of himself and he doesn’t even know if she’s gay.

He decides to get his shit together. “There’s a decent place on the second floor,” he says, “unless you prefer Apple.”

“I was incarcerated, not lobotomized,” she says, and looks pleased when he laughs.

It’s not perfect, but it relieves a little bit of the tension. When they stand at the counter, browsing the latest Android phones, Delphini is actually talking.

“What about that one?” Albus asks as the sales associate hovers nearby, smelling the commission in the air.

“I don’t need a camera like that,” she says.

Albus won’t bring himself to ask what she needs the phone for.

“This one has a lot of storage,” he says. Everyone needs storage.

“It comes with a two-year warranty, too,” the sales associate puts in helpfully.

Delphini turns to the sales associate. “I’m just looking for something simple. What do you have that’s inexpensive, but, say, not a flip phone?”

The sales associate sags, but dutifully shows Delphini the cheaper phones. He’s even having some interest with his phone case pitch.

“Wait, what?” Albus puts in. “She bought the insurance and you can’t throw in a phone case? The guy downstairs did that when I got my new one.”

The man hesitates, clearly deciding whether or not to call Albus on his bluff. Albus doesn’t blink. He wasn’t sorted into Slytherin by accident.

“I can’t give you one of the liquid silicone,” the guy says, “but we might have a rubber one I can throw in.”

“Can you do a screen protector, too, then?” Albus asks.

The man clearly hates them both, but that’s hardly new for either of them. “Fine,” he says.

When he ducks under the counter to unlock a drawer, Delphini grins at Albus. She doesn’t say thanks, but somehow that seems like thanks enough.

She’s signing paperwork when she pushes a couple hundred quid across the counter at the guy, for whom the presence of cash seems to confirm everything he suspected about them. “I’ll just get you your change,” he says, looking like he’s never had to use the cash register in his life.

Albus isn’t trying to be nosy ― or, isn’t trying to _seem_ nosy ― but he notices that she gives a fake name along with Grimmauld Place’s address.

She ends up with a crappy red phone case, but she seems pleased, popping the phone into the case.

“Can we sit down?” she asks, absorbed in her new purchase.

They find a table in the food court near an outlet to charge it. Delphini buys them both coffee as they wait for the thing to boot up for the first time.

“Thanks,” Albus says when she comes back with the drinks. She hands him a cup while he passes her the phone. “Choose a password or use the fingerprint option if you’d prefer,” he says.

He sips his coffee, watching Delphini fiddle with the settings. It’s so strange being in such a normal setting with her. People’s glances slide right off them. Nothing weird about two people having coffee in a mall.

“I like being in the Muggle world,” Albus says abruptly.

Delphini doesn’t look at him. “Why?” she asks, swiping right. She’s probably on Tinder or something.

Albus shrugs. “I’m not Harry Potter’s son here,” he says. She looks up at that, and he abruptly realizes how that must sound to her. Much better to be known for being Harry Potter’s kid than Voldemort’s.

Delphini doesn’t seem offended, though, from all Albus can get from her usual impassive stare. She looks like she’s going to say something, but she goes back to her phone instead. After a moment she offers, “There are wizards here.”

Albus straightens up. “Where?” he asks.

Delphini seems startled to be asked that question, but she pulls herself away from her phone and looks around the food court. She frowns a little as she takes in a group of teenagers. “Behind them,” she says nodding to the teenagers. “The couple near the sushi.”

Albus doesn’t recognize the couple, which is a good sign. Maybe they’re tourists.

“How can you do that?” he asks Delphini, going back to his coffee. “My dad said Dumbledore could do something like that, but I’ve never known anyone who could.”

“Albus Dumbledore,” she says instead of answering. Then she snorts. “You never had normal expectations put on you, did you?”

Albus laughs a little humourlessly too. “Finished in the bottom half of my seventh year,” he says. “Lily had to repeat a year because she’s on the spectrum, but no one seems to notice because all the paper say is how she’s England’s next Keeper. I’m definitely the one my parents worry about. Even with Jamie’s base-jumping,” he adds.

“Base-jumping,” Delphini repeats, like that was all she got out of the conversation. “I feel like you’d be normal in any other family,” she continues. “You just got unlucky with your parents.”

“You too,” he returns.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “I’m the over-achiever in my family. No one else survived Harry Potter trying to kill them.”

Albus bursts into laughter before he has the chance to second guess it, but it’s okay because for once she’s laughing too, her brown eyes lit up in amusement.

“I guess when you put it that way,” he says, trying desperately not to show that he’s actually delighted by her dark sense of humour. He watches her toss her empty coffee cup at the trash can, and is inexplicably charmed when she misses and swears to herself. He watches her walk over to pick it up and realizes with sudden clarity exactly how far in he already is.

When she comes back to the table she doesn’t sit down. Albus realizes it must be near her curfew and there’s no way they have time to take the tube back together. Her plan must have been to leave him here and disapparate in a toilet or something.

“You have to go,” he says.

She nods. Albus is trying to think of something to say that isn’t horribly obvious when she thrusts her new phone into his hands.

Albus blinks at the screen before he realizes what he’s seeing.

_Albus Potter_  
Mobile: ___________  
Home: ___________

“If you want,” she says.

He types in his number and hands the phone back to her, which she pockets immediately. “Thanks for your help,” she says, and, sure enough, heads off to the ladies toilets.

Albus is left to walk back to the tube alone ― alone with his thoughts, which is worse ― until his phone vibrates in his pocket.

_Are you coming over this weekend?_

Albus grins.

_If you want me to_

_The asshole at the store wouldn’t give me unlimited texting, so I guess you’d better._

_Okay_

He’s too happy to care that he shouldn’t be.


	8. You Know Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Albus fight. Harry and Draco don't.

It’s Sunday night at the Burrow and Harry is trying to eavesdrop on, like, six conversations at once.

Ginny and Rose are back from their tournament in Asia, so Ginny and Oliver are laughing with Bill and his new girlfriend, Vanessa, about something in the kitchen. Hermione and Percy _might_ be talking about the change in documenting procedures that Harry’s been dreading for the last six months. Scorpius and Rose are laughing to themselves in a corner, but Harry caught “my dad said” and couldn’t help the turn of his head.

Finally there’s Albus, who’s talking to James and Samantha, who hasn’t said a word about Delphini, but Harry still wants any shred of information he can get.

“Do you think he’ll bring one?”

Harry snaps back to Arthur, embarrassed. “Sorry?”

“Your cousin,” Arthur explains. “Do you think he’ll bring an automobile to the wedding? I know there’s Samantha’s family, but I’d rather ask someone from our side.”

“Don’t you see the Grangers every now and then?” Harry asks because he knew they were close ― Ross Granger even hired Arthur for a week when his receptionist went on holiday. (Arthur burned a week of holiday time with the Ministry in order to do so. He had so much fun answering telephones and using the computer that he still talks about it almost fourteen years later.)

“Yes, but you said Dudley owns a Tesla,” Arthur says.

“Did I?” Harry asks, unable to remember saying such a thing.

“Maybe it was Jamie who told me,” Arthur adds.

“Oh,” says Harry, glancing back over to Albus. Maybe sensing this, Albus looks up with narrowed eyes. Harry gives a short smile and turns back to Arthur. “Well, remind me at the wedding. I’ll ask him.”

Samantha throws back her head and lets her laughter ring out. A bunch of heads turn in their direction. “Oh my God, please do,” she says.

James also looks amused. “Yeah, if you want,” he says, lacing his fingers with Samantha. They’re always on the same page, and that page always spells disaster.

“What’s up?” Harry calls over to them, no longer pretending not to listen. Hermione and Percy turned to listen when Samantha laughed, too.

“Shit, you tell him, “James says to Albus, which does nothing for Harry’s sinking gut.

Albus rolls his eyes at James. “James is just being an arse.”

“Not if you actually want to,” James says, grinning.

“Want to what?” Harry says, keeping a smile on.

Albus hesitates, but says it anyway. “They said I could bring her to the wedding.”

Harry pales. “Who?”

“You know who.”

There’s silence. A perfect, horrified silence. James is trying not to laugh into Samantha’s shoulder.

“I mean,” Albus says, realizing. “You know what I mean. I didn’t mean _him_.”

“Albus,” Harry says, low. He’s swallowing around a lump in his throat and he realizes he’s another word away from crying. He shuts his mouth.

Albus takes in the look on Harry’s face and stands up. “Don’t,” he says, furious. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

“What’s going on?” Ginny asks, entering the room. The kitchen crowd has clearly been drawn by the tension in the living room.

Harry spins to face her, so grateful for her presence. “Albus,” he chokes out.

Ginny’s eyebrows come together. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Samantha says, looking a little more sober. As serious as Harry’s ever seen her anyway. “We were just teasing him, saying he could bring his new girlfriend to the wedding. That woman you’re all worried about.”

“Riddle?” Ginny asks, meeting Harry’s horrified stare. They’re in total agreement.

“That _is_ a cool last name, though, you have to admit―” Samantha says before seeing the look on Ginny’s face. Ginny takes Sam flying sometimes. She wouldn’t risk pissing her off even more.

“Albus Severus Potter,” Ginny says slowly. “I absolutely forbid it.”

Albus doesn’t look at her with the anger he had for Harry, which is somehow scarier. He meets his mother’s anger with an impassive gaze. “Mum, no,” he says, dismissing what she said as meaningless, which, Harry realizes a little hysterically, it was.

“Harry,” Ginny says.

“Mum,” Albus says before Harry can drop to his knees and beg his son to see reason because that seems to be the only option left, “First of all, this was _Jamie’s_ idea, not mine. And I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve seen her around Muggles and she’s fine. She’s meeting all her parole conditions and they’re insanely strict. Auntie, tell them.”

Hermione looks sad. “You know I can’t tell them anything,” she says.

“But she wouldn’t be still out if she violated parole,” Albus insists.

Hermione nods. “That’s true,” she says.

“Parole,” Ginny repeats, “listen to yourself.”

“You took her around Muggles?” Harry manages to ask.

Albus spares him a glance. “I helped her buy a shitty phone at the mall last week, then we had lunch in the south end yesterday. She didn’t even torture anyone.”

“This isn’t funny, Albus,” Ginny snaps.

“I’m not laughing, Mum.”

“Isn’t she a little old for you?” Arthur puts in, frowning.

“She’s the same age as Vanessa,” Albus snaps. “You aren’t asking Uncle Bill questions like that, though.”

There’s another horrible silence. James loses it and snickers hard into Samantha’s hair.

“Albus.”

The room turns to Scorpius, shining like a beacon of Harry’s last hope.

“Albus, let’s go home,” Scorpius says softly.

“Are you kidding me?” Rose snaps.

Scorpius goes over to whisper to Rose, who still looks annoyed by the time Scorpius and Albus disapparate together. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers.

Ginny rushes to his side. “Harry, you said in your letter, but I didn’t know it was like this.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry said. “I thought it might be.”

Samantha approaches them carefully. “If it helps,” she says, “it was really James who brought up the idea.”

“Why would you agree?” Ginny asks, clearly despairing. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.” She looks at the ceiling for help.

Harry turns to Hermione. “Do her conditions even allow her to go to a wedding? I read something about alcohol.”

Hermione’s eyes go wide. “Harry, you can’t talk about this here,” she says.

Harry pulls her into the backyard. “Please,” he says. “You know I have access to them anyway. Don’t make me wait til Monday.”

Hermione sighs, but comes through, like she always does. “She can’t drink, and she can’t go into a bar, but she can be in a tent that has alcohol around so long as she doesn’t partake.”

“Fuck,” Harry says again.

“She can’t have a wand, she can’t buy property, she can’t leave the city, she can’t work with children, she can’t be out past six,” Hermione continues. “Albus is right, Harry. She’s meeting all her conditions. I see her almost every other day.”

“That you know of,” Harry adds. “She’s powerful. She could be in Morocco every night.”

“I suppose,” Hermione says. “I don’t think so, though. We do check up on her.”

Harry looks at the sky. “I know you want to believe in reform Hermione, but this is such a big risk.” He doesn’t want to play the Bellatrix card because it’s not fair to Hermione, so he won’t, but God, does her daughter ever look like her. “Why does she need a shitty phone?” Harry asks instead, remembering something from the conversation.

“I don’t know,” Hermione says. “It’s not a violation of her conditions. Unless,” Hermione adds, “she has more than one mobile. Subsection three of section nine.”

“What?” Harry asks. “Why is that a thing?”

“Mostly it’s a thing Muggle drug dealers do, but we include it to cover our bases.”

Harry blinks. Part of him likes the idea of Voldemort’s kid getting busted in a meth deal.

It’s suddenly his priority to read the whole thing again first thing in the morning, if only to see how bizarre it really is.. Mondays at the Ministry are always pretty brutal. A Voldemort-related task somehow seems fitting.

Dinner is awkward but short. Bill and Vanessa left almost right after Albus and Scorpius, which was kind of nice. Harry is on the Board of Govenors at Hogwarts, so he has to meet with Fleur, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (eighteen years running), twice a year. They’ve actually become closer since she and Bill separated. Now that Harry isn’t looking through the lens of his childhood where the Weasleys could do no wrong, he can see that Bill is a little gross sometimes.

Harry and Ginny sit at the same end of the table. They talk a little about Albus, but it’s not something Harry particularly wants to talk about in front of Oliver Wood and Percy, who means so well, but has offered only terrible advice since Albus left the house.

By the time he’s hugging Ron and Hermione, Harry is so ready to get home with enough time to worry his way through insomnia before he has to go to work.

He apparates into the alley next to Draco’s building, which, bless, is even fancy for an alley.

“I’m here to see Draco Malfoy,” Harry says to the doorman. “It’s Harry Potter.”

“Is he expecting you, Mr. Potter?” asks the man, reaching for the phone.

“No,” says Harry.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy, I have Harry Potter here to see you,” the man says into the phone. “Uh huh. You too, sir.” He hangs up and addresses Harry. “Go on up,” he says, gesturing to the elevator.

Draco meets him at the door.

“Draco,” Harry says heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks.

Harry frowns, not even sure where to begin. He’s feeling tears threatening again, which is the last possible thing he wants right now.

Draco looks him up and down. “Jesus, Potter, come in. Wine? Whiskey?”

“Sure,” says Harry, following Draco into the kitchen, which has an island that could barely fit in Harry’s bedroom.

Draco hands Harry a whiskey with a sliver of orange floating in the chilled glass. Draco hasn’t turned on the lights, so they’re left with the lights of London twinkling out of the glass walls in Draco’s apartment. Harry looks at his glass instead of the beauty around him.

“It’s Al,” he says. “He’s involved with _her_ somehow. I don’t know.”

Draco doesn’t say anything. Harry can’t read his expression from the half-glance he keeps throwing at Draco.

“I just,” Harry says. “Can I stay here tonight? With you?”

Draco’s still looking at him with that unreadable expression, but he finally speaks. “Well, I hope you weren’t expecting me to say no,” he says with a helpless sort of laugh.

Harry looks up at him proper.

It’s Draco’s turn to stare into his own glass of whiskey while he talks. “It’s always yes for you, Potter.”

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Harry reaches out to take Draco’s drink from him. He places both glasses on the sleek countertop and moves into Draco’s space.

“Hey,” Harry says, brushing his fingers against Draco’s own because that seemed safer than the other ideas his mind supplied. “You don’t have to be afraid. I want this. I meant it.”

Draco only watches, eyes wide, as Harry brings his hand up to Draco’s jaw.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry whispers.

Draco kisses him instead of answering. Harry let’s his hand slide around to the back of Draco’s head and pulls him closer, opening his mouth to Draco. Draco’s tongue is already pushing in, his hips already pushing Harry against the counter. Harry grips the hair in his hands, pulling just a little, and Draco groans into Harry’s mouth, which has Harry rock hard in an instant.

Harry’s clutching Draco’s head with both hands now as he walks Draco a few steps back into the fridge and pins him there. Draco moans again as Harry moves his mouth to Draco’s neck, biting at the stubble on Draco’s jaw. It’s exhilarating.

“God,” Draco gasps as Harry’s mouth moves lower.

When Harry’s fingers slip the top button of Draco’s shirt open, Draco pushes Harry back, just a little.

Harry stills his hand. “You okay?” he asks. “Is this okay?”

Draco laughs, smiling like he means it, which Harry rarely sees. It has Harry smiling back, and Draco pulls him down into another kiss.

“Wait, wait,” Draco says, hands on Harry’s belt buckle.

“Yeah?”

Draco kisses underneath Harry’s ear. “I don’t want to have sad sex with you,” Draco says.

Harry closes his eyes against the feeling of Draco’s lips. “There’s no way I’m that bad,” Harry says.

Draco laughs, placing another kiss on Harry’s neck. “What do you know?” Draco returns. “Someone as good-looking and famous as you doesn’t have to ever be good. You have people lining up to fall into bed with you regardless.”

“Where’s this line up you mention?”

Draco grins against Harry’s skin, which feels even better than the kisses.

“I mean that you’re sad about Albus and you came here to sleep,” Draco explains.

“Among other things,” Harry says.

“And I hardly think the little _virgin_―” Harry squawks in protest― “needs any more distractions for his first time with a man.”

“So what,” Harry says, “you’re just squeezing my arse to be friendly?”

Draco’s fingers squeeze a little more. “Well, no,” he admits. “I also want you to fuck me into the nearest flat surface until I can’t remember my name,” he says with a grin at Harry’s groan. “But I’m not sure tonight is the best night for it. You probably have to be up for work at seven.”

“Seven thirty if I use a cleaning spell instead of showering,” Harry admits.

“And deprive me of the idea of you in my shower?” Draco asks, removing his hands from Harry’s body. “Come on, I’ll make it up to you by showing you my dark secret.”

Harry lets Draco press another closed-mouth kiss to his mouth and take his hand. Draco leads the way through the flat until they reach the master bedroom which has a bed, again, almost bigger than Harry’s bedroom.

Draco’s dark secret turns out to be a Muggle television that he admits Albus helped set up. “It has Netflix!” Draco says brightly.

Harry strips down to his boxers and t-shirt, refrains from explaining Netflix and chill to Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s looking a little stunned at seeing Harry in his boxers, which Harry takes as a good sign, even if he’s not getting any tonight.

Turns out Draco’s halfway through the first season of _Jessica Jones_, so they watch another episode and a half, snuggled against the mountain of pillows Draco has in his bed.

They’re holding hands, playing with each others fingers sometimes, and that has Harry’s heart racing a little, being able to do that now, being able to touch and hold. It’s intimate without being too much, which is actually working for Harry now that the day is catching up with him.

They fall asleep holding hands, whispering stupid insults back and forth, laughing in the dark. Harry’s insomnia manages to refrain from doing anything dumb that night. He wakes up feeling unusually refreshed, which is such a blessed change from his usual Monday mornings.

Draco is sleeping with his long hair a mess when Harry grins and sneaks off to the shower at 7:04. When he comes back, dressed again and toweling his hair, Draco is just opening his eyes.

“Where are you going?” Draco asks, voice gravelly. “I thought I was supposed to enjoy the sight of you in my shower.”

Harry thinks about the face he made when he saw Draco’s lineup of hair products. “Maybe another time,” Harry says.

“Yeah?” Draco grins.

Harry drops the towel on the floor and swings a leg over Draco’s hips, pushing down a little. Draco’s erection is obvious even through the blankets.

“Oh,” Draco breathes. “You’re just going to leave like this, aren’t you,” he asks.

“Leave you wanting more, I hope,” Harry says, leaning down to kiss Draco. Draco’s hands come up to clutch at Harry’s back, and the kiss is actually going on quite a bit longer than Harry intended.

“Come to mine tonight,” Harry whispers into Draco’s mouth. 

“Yes,” Draco says, lifting his head to recapture Harry’s mouth. Their tongues slide desperately together. Harry’s plan was to tease Draco a little and leave, and the plan has backfired so spectacularly. He wants to rut against Draco all day here.

“Fuck,” Harry says, pulling away. He scrambles off the bed and adjusts his jeans. He has to apparate home to get his work robes, but he isn’t sure that’s enough to get rid of his erection. Draco grins like he knows this.

“Later, Potter,” he says.

Harry leaves. It’s not bad for a Monday.


	9. Epiphanies and Other Mind-Blowing Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they have sex.

_Hey, I have to stay late tonight. I’ll probably be home around 11. Do you want to come over then?_

_Harry_

_As fun as that sounds, why don’t we try another night where you’re not exhausted?_

_DM_

_Tomorrow?_

_Wednesday?_

_I have wedding planning stuff Wednesday and Thursday. Though I’d really like a disaster to get me out of it. Can you call in a bomb threat? Fake going into labour? _

_Harry_

_Potter, your seduction skills leave something to be desired. Owl me next week. Or better yet, just text me like a normal person. _

_DM_

_You know how to text?_

_Harry_

~*~

Delphini texts him Thursday afternoon as Albus is getting ready to leave work.

_I’m cooking pasta if you’re interested._

_Sure. Twenty minutes?_

There’s no reply, but she’s almost at bad at communicating through text as she is in person. Since the day at the mall, they’d gone out once more, and while it wasn’t painful, lunch was decidedly quiet. A Muggle café with big windows and terrible service. Albus wasn’t questioning what brought him back anymore.

She’s wearing jogging pants and a baggy t-shirt when she opens the door, which is unspeakably attractive for some reason, her hair up in a ponytail like usual. Confirms that she doesn’t give a fuck how she looks to him. Unless she knows the bizarre reaction Albus has to casual clothes.

“Hey,” she says, stepping back so Albus can come in.

As he hangs up his coat, Delphini heads into the kitchen without waiting for him. When Albus pushes open the kitchen door a minute later, she’s stirring a pot at the stove.

Albus puts the bottle of wine down on the counter as carelessly as he can without actually dropping the thing. “I brought white,” he says.

She looks up from the stove, startled, maybe. It’s hard to tell. She stares at the bottle of wine, then at Albus. Finally she says, “I can’t.”

“Hmm?”

“My parole conditions forbid alcohol,” Delphini tells him.

Albus vanishes the bottle with a wave of his wand. “Forget it, then,” he says, a little embarrassed. This isn’t a date.

Delphini places the kettle on another burner as she works, and Albus readies two mugs with tea leaves. He leans against the counter near her as she cooks.

“Anything I can help with?” he asks.

Delphini shakes her head. “It’s almost done,” she says, and they lapse into silence again.

Five minutes and six words later, they get the food on dishes and head over to the table. Albus glances at the books and papers scattered there, grasping for anything to make conversation with.

“Did Hermione Granger recommend that one?” Albus says, gesturing to _Hogwarts, A History_.

A little too quickly, Delphini clears the table, the books and papers vanishing. Albus had just enough time to get the sense that there were notes about Hogwarts too, and that maybe he should have kept his fucking mouth shut and read what the murderer was writing about the school at which she killed a child. Shit.

“No,” Delphini says. “Granger only wants to talk about my feelings,” she says with a bit of a drawl. “How do I feel about my stay at Azkaban? Do I want to hurt myself or others? Am I getting regular exercise? Have I tried _mindfulness_?”

Albus actually wants the answers to the first two questions, but forces himself not to ask. “Have you?” he asks.

“Meditation?” Delphini asks. “God. Yes, but only because Granger’s asking. I hate it,” she adds.

Albus smirks a little into his tea. She bought them all mindfulness books a few Christmases ago. He and dad locked eyes and immediately had to look away to stop from laughing. Lily actually did like it, but they all hoped she’d grow out of it.

“I tried Yoga once,” Albus offers. “I can’t say I liked it.”

Delphini nods. “A friend of mine dragged me to the class she taught once. I thought it was ridiculous.”

There. Another piece of her life from before. Albus catches it like a snitch made of pure gold.

“Another Muggle friend?” Albus asks.

Delphini regards him over the pasta that is actually quite good. “You don’t think I had wizard friends when I was younger, do you?” she asks him, frowning a little.

“I hadn’t thought about it much.” A lie.

Delphini makes a face. “For obvious reasons, the wizarding world was not supposed to know about me. It was safer for me, they said.”

“And look how well that turned out,” Albus says. Delphini looks at him sharply, but he grins. “You’re stuck practicing mindfulness.”

Delphini’s lips quirk. “Could be worse,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate. Albus should take it as the throwaway comment it was probably meant as, but he chooses to take it as a potential compliment.

“Have you seen your old friends since you got out?” Albus asks.

Delphini doesn’t answer right away. She pushes some food around. Stabs at a piece of chicken like she’s interested in seeing it die slowly. Or maybe Albus is projecting, and she just doesn’t like nosy assholes bothering her during dinner.

“You invited me for dinner,” Albus reminds her. “I thought that meant conversation.”

Delphini looks at him. “I thought you didn’t mind that I don’t say a lot.”

“I don’t, it’s fine,” Albus says abruptly. “Sorry.”

Delphini keeps watching him. Now it’s Albus’s turn to mutilate his food.

“My sister and I use to do schoolwork together over the holidays,” Albus says, still to his plate. “She didn’t mind that we weren’t talking a lot. I liked it too.” He looks up at Delphini. “You want the company, but you don’t want the questions, am I right?”

She’s wearing an expression now, but Albus isn’t sure how to decipher it. “I don’t mind some questions,” she says at last.

“You’re doing a lot of reading,” Albus says, gesturing to where the pile of papers and books used to be. “You think I’m mildly tolerable―”

“Mildly.” A small smile.

“We can work with that,” Albus says, smiling back.

Delphini breathes a little laugh like she can’t quite believe the conversation, but she doesn’t look unhappy. She was bright and energetic six years ago, which Albus knows was an act, but he’s noticed that she’s not all dungeons and resurrections. She had friends, she hates yoga. Voldemort might have been a fairytale villain, but Delphini is real life.

“Granger asks so many questions,” Delphini says, gesturing her fork like it explains something. “There are reporters in the street right now. All my life I wanted―” She shakes her head. “But now.” She takes another bite of food.

“Okay, I got exactly nothing from that,” Albus clarifies. “Was that a yes?”

Delphini grins. “You didn’t quite explain anything yourself,” she points out.

Albus is a little bit dazzled by her smile, manages to keep a hold on his answering grin. “I think you understood anyway,” he guesses.

“I think you did too,” she says. Her eyes twinkle with amusement.

Albus smirks back, tries to reign it in as Delphini turns back to her food. They pass the rest of the meal in relative silence, but it’s comfortable for once. When they catch each other’s eyes, it’s okay to smile a little, it’s not hideously awkward, it’s actually―

Shit, shit, shit.

~*~

_Potter, we need to talk._

_Shit, you can text?_

_I’m serious. Come over when you have a chance._

_If I had a chance, I would have. Everything okay?_

_It’s about her._

Harry stops himself from asking _who_. He Knows Who.

He tells Draco to come to the Ministry since it’s Delphini business. He doesn’t invite Hermione because a) Draco says it’s not urgent, and b) Harry has a nice office with a fancy lock and quality silencing charm.

Draco Malfoy meets him near reception looking like a prince with indigo silk robes. He’s dressed like a Malfoy and it’s inexplicably hot.

“Draco, hi,” Harry says, suddenly very aware that he hasn’t shaved in two days. It’s been a hellish week even without the wedding planning. The tailor cancelled, so Harry and Oliver were on bridemaids dresses alterations.

“Mr. Potter,” Draco says, holding out his hand. It’s covered in a black glove so expensive-looking that Harry can’t even tell what it’s made out of.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, shaking Draco’s hand and feeling like a tool. “My office is this way.”

Ramirez raises an eyebrow as they pass his cubicle, but Harry nods and Ramirez nods back, understanding. Harry makes a mental note to see about a raise for that kid.

Harry closes the door behind Draco Malfoy, still thinking about him as Draco Malfoy in those robes, on Ministry business, Harry’s blood is rushing in one direction and he’s about to make some poor life choices.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asks.

Draco smiles, and becomes Draco again, just like that.

“If you think we can spare the time, sir,” Draco replies, smirking.

“You said it wasn’t important,” Harry said, closing the space between them, taking Draco in his arms.

“I said it wasn’t _urgent_.”

“Same thing,” Harry says, and lowers his mouth to Draco’s.

The taste of Draco’s mouth is utterly intoxicating even before his lips part and invite Harry inside.

“I missed you,” Harry says between kisses.

“God, Potter,” Draco says, pulling him back in.

Their tongues slide against each other’s, scorching. Harry suddenly needs to get under Draco’s robes.

“Can I?” he asks ― begs ― as his fingers find the delicate buttons on Draco’s robes.

“Yes,” Draco gasps, pushing Harry’s hand away and grabbing at the buttons himself. He makes short work of it, far faster than Harry could have managed in his state of arousal, but Harry takes the final step and slides the silk off Draco’s shoulders himself.

There’s nothing underneath but Draco’s arousal.

“You―” Harry says, skating his hands down Draco’s sides, wanting to touch everything at once.

“I thought there was a chance,” Draco says.

Harry laughs. “Brilliant,” he says, touching and staring and touching. Draco starts working on Harry’s own robes. “You’re brilliant,” Harry murmurs again.

“Mmm, glad you think so.”

When they’re both naked, Harry pulls Draco in for another kiss. It’s slower this time, more deliberate. Draco’s hands wind their way into Harry’s hair, caresses him like this matters.

“God, I want you,” Harry whispers, watching Draco smile.

Draco’s eyes are closed, his forehead touching Harry’s. “Then have me,” he says.

The desk is huge, but it’s utterly ridiculous because they aren’t teenagers. Are they grown-ass wizards or what. Harry transfigures the armchair in the corner into a passable twin bed, guides Draco over to it.

“Lie down,” Harry says, meeting Draco’s wide eyes. “Please.”

Draco nods, lying down gracefully, never letting go of Harry’s hand, and tugging him down too. Harry lands on his side, half on top of Draco. Draco gives him an unreadable look, but Harry doesn’t miss the way he trembles as Harry touches the hair at the side of Draco’s face.

“Potter,” Draco says.

“Harry,” he corrects.

“Harry,” Draco says, voice catching on the name.

Harry smiles, cupping Draco’s cheek as he presses another kiss to his lips. “I may be a virgin,” Harry says as he pulls away, “as you so thoughtfully put it,” he trails his hand down Draco’s chest, running his knuckles over Draco’s cock and not stopping there, “but what I lack in experience, I hope I make up for in research.”

Draco had groaned when Harry had touched his cock, and was nearly panting now that Harry’s hand was exploring the area behind his balls. “Research?” he manages to ask.

“Mmm-hmm, I did some reading.” Harry reaches for his wand. “I understood the general mechanics, of course, but I wanted this to be good for you.” He murmurs a particular spell that Draco clearly recognizes.

“Oh my God,” Draco says as the lubrication coats Harry’s fingers.

“Can I?” Harry asks again.

Draco’s already drawing a leg up to give Harry better access. “Yeah.”

Harry finds Draco’s hole and is suddenly breathless himself at the idea of doing this to Draco. He summons his courage and pushes in with one finger. 

“Ohh, _Harry_,” Draco says. Harry’s caught off guard by thinking how beautiful Draco is. “Another, please,” Draco says.

Harry obliges and watches, fascinated and desperately aroused as Draco writhes on his fingers. Draco’s hands clutch at Harry’s shoulders. Research and common sense tell Harry that it’s going spectacularly well, but he still pushes his luck.

“Now,” he says in a husky voice he hardly recognizes, “my reading suggests that if I do something like this―” He crooks his fingers and Draco’s whole body spasms. He arches up with a cry. “Yeah,” says Harry, entirely losing his hold on proper speech.

Draco’s breathing heavily as Harry shifts around, tries to repeat the process. “I didn’t know ― _ah_ ― Gryffindors could do research,” he gasps, ever a prat.

“It’s been known to happen,” Harry says, placing a kiss on Draco’s neck, on his shoulder. “Brave can look very different sometimes.”

If Draco heard him, he can’t tell. All Harry knows is that Draco’s decided to speed things up; he grabs Harry’s wrist and mutters a cleaning spell for Harry’s fingers. He takes another moment to use a protection spell on both of them like a gentleman. Then he swings around so he’s straddling Harry.

Draco guides Harry’s still-lubricated hand over Harry’s own cock, stroking once, twice, then Draco is sinking down on Harry’s cock making them both groan. Draco takes a moment before moving again.

“You okay?” Harry asks.

Draco looks up from under strands of blond hair. His gaze looks a little glassy ― like he’s already well fucked ― and smiles. “Yeah,” he says, smiling fading a little, but never disappearing as he starts to move. He wastes no time in building up speed, throwing back his head just a little like he can’t help it. Harry’s hands have been desperately clutching Draco’s hips, pulling Draco down harder on each thrust, but just when Harry’s having thoughts about touching Draco, Draco takes both of Harry’s hands, lacing their fingers together. It’s intimate in a way that even the sex wasn’t until just now. Draco’s eyes open a little, and he’s still wearing the ghost of a smile as he looks at Harry.

“Can I touch you?” Harry asks. He’s looking at Draco’s cock, bouncing and red. Mostly he’s thinking that he’s not going to last long and he’d love it if Draco could join him.

“No need,” Draco pants.

“God,” Harry says, transfixed at the sight of Draco taking his pleasure all from Harry’s cock. He’s really having sex with Draco Malfoy.

“Oh,” Draco says, clutching Harry’s fingers hard all of a sudden, then he’s coming, squeezing his eyes tight and spending himself on Harry’s chest.

Taking advantage of Draco’s relaxing grip on Harry’s hands, Harry pulls one away and touches the come on his stomach. 

Draco has all but stopped moving on top of Harry, and he’s watching Harry closely. “Go on,” he says.

Harry hadn’t needed much more encouragement, to be honest, and he licks Draco’s spend from his middle finger, not thinking about much else. He’s rewarded with the slowest of slides of Draco up, then down his cock again. Harry’s gaze swings back to Draco who’s staring at him intently. He doesn’t stop as he lifts up and lowers himself slowly again on Harry’s cock.

“Draco,” Harry moans. It feels insanely good.

“Can you come like this?” Draco asks, slowly up, slowly back down, hard.

“Ohh,” Harry says, his hands taking their position on Draco’s hips again. “Yeah. God, yes.”

“All right,” Draco says. He’s sweaty and utterly wrecked, but he won’t stop watching Harry. Slowly, slowly. Hard, deliberate.

“God, Draco,” Harry says. “Just like that,” he says, his back arching. “Please.”

“You don’t want it faster?”

“No,” Harry says, “’S perfect. God. _Fuck._” His fingers are digging into Draco’s hips hard now, clutching like they’re the only thing grounding Harry to reality. He feels the slow delicious pull of Draco on his cock, speeding up just a fractional amount.

“Show me, Harry,” Draco whispers.

“Oh, God.” Harry’s orgasm looms huge. “Fuck, Draco, I’m―” And then he’s coming and coming. He’s distantly aware that he’s crying out, distantly thankful for all those spells on his office. He’s practically sitting as he shudders through it and he realizes he’s close enough to pull Draco into a kiss, shoving his tongue into Draco’s mouth and moaning through it.

Draco kisses him right back, still fucking Harry through it until Harry collapses back onto the bed.

“Come ‘ere,” Harry pleads, gesturing for Draco to follow him. He does, and they kiss hard like they haven’t just fucked. Harry slips out of Draco and he turns them so Draco is flat on his back again and Harry can kiss him from a better angle.

The kiss eventually slows, smiles sneaking into it, hands weaving into hair.

Harry catches one of Draco’s hands and turns to press a kiss to his fingers.

“I actually had information, you know,” Draco says eventually, still a little breathless. He’s smiling.

“Shut up, let me enjoy this.”

Draco laughs. “Will no one ask questions if you spend nearly an hour having sex in the middle of the workday? Come on, Potter, I’m trying to save your job here. Surely even the great Harry Potter gets held to some rules.”

Harry grins back. “I told Ramirez I was going on lunch,” he explains. “I can do whatever I like when I’m off the clock.”

“How romantic,” Draco drawls. He sounds like himself again, and that’s not a bad thing.

“Well, you asked.”

“So do you want to hear my information or not?” Draco asks before stealing another short kiss.

“Sure,” Harry says. He returns the kiss, deepening it until Draco is breathless once more. “But there’s still, like, eleven minutes left of lunch.”

Draco laughs and kisses him like it might be a little romantic after all.


	10. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which questions are asked

Actually Harry isn’t the worst boyfriend ― boyfriend? Are they boyfriends now? ― in the world and he does invite Draco to James’s wedding.

“I’m already going,” Draco reminds him over dinner later.

“Yeah, but, like,” Harry gestures with his fork, “you know. With me. Like that.”

They’re eating Indian take out on the floor in Harry’s townhouse. Draco had finally told Harry his Delphini news ― that Narcissa actually did know about the existence of her niece ― and Harry invited him over to share his own in turn.

“Okay, but you said your mom cut off ties with her when she went to prison,” Harry had said, reviewing his information.

“I wouldn’t call it ties. She said she visited about once a year. But she loves Scorpius more than anything,” Draco said. “She didn’t take it well when everything went down.”

“And Azkaban’s visitor logs confirm that,” Harry said, grabbing the records from the paper-strew table. “But look who _did_ visit her when she was in prison.”

Draco took one look at the page and snapped back up to Harry. “Andromeda,” he said.

“Did you know that?” Harry asked.

Draco had shaken his head. “She and mother barely talk. I’ve only gotten to know her a little in the last few years. You see her more often, don’t you?”

“I used to. When Teddy was a kid. I’m going to drop by tomorrow though. Do you fancy Indian?”

So now they’re eating on the floor in the den, chatting and kicking each other at intervals. And asking Draco out.

“Like, _with_-with you?” Draco says, clearly enjoying Harry’s phrasing. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off with the intensity of _with_-with,” Harry deadpans.

Draco snorts into his paneer. “That’s very thoughtful,” he says, “but no, Harry, honestly.”

“Wait, actually no?”

Draco grins. “Actually no,” he clarifies. “That’d be a nightmare for you, wouldn’t it?”

Harry had been expecting this, and keeps eye contact like a boss. “No,” he says. “I want to be there with you.”

“And come out to your family and the press on the same day?” Draco asks, nose wrinkling.

“Ginny and the kids know already,” Harry says.

“Granger and Weasley?”

“Ron ― kind of ― knows. It was a brief conversation So, yeah, they both probably know.”

“And how many members of the press did Jamie invite?”

Harry takes a second to count. “Six,” he says finally.

“All different publications, I’m guessing,” Draco says with a smirk.

“They had a lottery,” Harry says. “James said they could put a down payment on a house. If they were into such boring domestic ideas like home ownership.”

“Okay, so six, plus all the purebloods are on Twitter these days.”

“I don’t ― really?” Harry asks. “No, wait. I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it.”

“Don’t you?”

Harry runs a hand over his face. “You’re seriously saying no?”

“Sorry,” Draco says. “Staying your dirty little secret for now.”

Harry exhales. “That’s not what I want.”

Draco finally smiles for real. “I know,” he says, “and that’s ― kind of sweet, Harry Potter.”

“I’m not denying it if anyone asks,” says Harry, who, despite his insistence, is just a little bit relieved.

“Fine,” Draco agrees, then, “kiss me.”

~ * ~

Unsurprisingly, Albus has a lot of work he’s been putting off the last few weeks. Something must have been on his mind, he can’t imagine what. So his new week night arrangement with Delphini is good for both his mood _and_ his career.

They take turns cooking, about which Albus has strong feelings that he’s trying not to think about, they eat with a bit of conversation, then they head to the drawing room for reading.

Delphini is in the middle of _Muggleborn, A Biography_ which is about Hermione Granger’s rise to political power. Albus doesn’t love the idea that Delphini is reading about his aunt, but there isn’t anything weird about reading about the Minister for Magic, there _isn’t_, so he mostly keeps to his own notes about changes in Muggle legislation that could impact his employer’s organization.

“Anything interesting?” Albus asks after about an hour of this one night. They’re sitting at opposite ends of the room as usual.

Delphini doesn’t look up. “Did you _know_ the Minister is friends with Harry Potter?” she drawls. When Albus snorts, she looks up and gives him a small pleased smile.

They rarely see each other on weekends. Delphini sometimes says she’s going out, and Albus pretends like he has a life, interests that aren’t her.

He’s going to ask her to Jamie’s wedding. Casually. So it makes sense in the conversation. Except she’ll say no, she can’t possibly be interested in it, except she seems interested in Albus’s family if her reading is anything to go by, although inviting her is giving Voldemort’s daughter access to his family in a private moment, and anyway―

“What are you working on?” she asks him.

Albus can’t remember at first. “Just ― the non-profit I work for is helping the government revamp part of the healthcare system, except it’s a mess of red tape to work through, and the current government has just announced cuts in the latest budget … it’s a long story.”

“Is it interesting?”

Albus breathes a laugh. “Actually, yeah. I like it.”

Delphini smiles at this, too, as though Albus’s happiness means anything to her at all.

_Do it now._

“I’m going to go to sleep,” Delphini says, waving a hand at her books and notes. They vanish to somewhere Albus can’t peek. Not that he’s trying too hard to look at her notes. He’s mostly struck stupid by the idea of her climbing into a bed, lying down.

“Okay,” says Albus. She never asks him to leave the house, obviously, but he does so anyway.

“Are you coming around tomorrow?” she asks. Casually. It makes sense in the conversation.

“Unless you want to have dinner at my place,” Albus says. “Come for 4. We can still make it back here for 6.”

Delphini watches him with those dark eyes that can surely see right through him. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” she says slowly.

“Yeah.” He holds his breath.

“I can’t,” she says, expressionless. She has plans. Muggle boyfriends. Girlfriends. Who the hell knows.

“Okay,” says Albus. He gets to his feet. “Whatever.”

When he chances a glance at her, Delphini is giving him a weird look.

“What?” he asks.

“Will you still come for 6?” she asks.

_Are you coming around? Will you come for 6?_ None of her questions give any sign that she wants him there aside from the existence of the question itself. She might just be asking to see if she’ll be forced to put up with his company again.

“Yeah,” he says, “’course.”

~ * ~

Andromeda invited Harry for tea when he asked to talk to her, so he sits in her living room, waiting for her to find some biscuits, and looks around at all the dead faces on the walls.

_Tonks, Remus, Ted Tonks_

There’s a picture of three little girls on the mantle, too, tucked half-behind a picture of Teddy on platform 9 ¾ his first year. Harry’s seen it before, but for one reason or another, he only really notices it today.

Andromeda comes back into the living room with a tray.

“Thank you,” Harry says.

“Of course,” says Andromeda. She isn’t smiling, but Harry’s learned her subtle moods over the years, and she’s pleased to see Harry.

“How are Teddy and Victoire liking their new place in Hogsmeade?” Harry asks. “I haven’t seen them since last summer.”

“Very well,” Andromeda says. “Though not as much as Fleur likes them being so close to her work, I think. Victoire says she’s lonely since the divorce.”

“Must be nice having them,” Harry agrees.

“So, Harry,” Andromeda says. “Ask me what you came here to.”

She’s never rude, but she’s terribly to the point.

“Delphini Riddle,” Harry says.

“Is that the name she’s using?” Andromeda asks.

“You went to visit her in prison,” Harry says.

“And you want to know why,” Andromeda says.

Harry nods.

Andromeda takes a sip of tea and takes her time placing it back in the saucer.

“She’s my niece,” Andromeda says at last.

Harry waits. Patience isn’t his strong suit, but he’s learned the hard way (more than once) that taking an extra moment can be beneficial. The tea is just this side of too hot. He takes a tiny sip.

“Is that a good enough excuse for you?” Andromeda asks, still polite.

“Andromeda,” Harry begins heavily, “I’m not trying to pry into your business―”

“Yet here we are.”

“―but she’s involved with my son somehow,” Harry says. “I’m so afraid. Please. She almost killed him once. She almost brought back _Voldemort_.”

Andromeda tilts her head. “Harry,” she says, “I cannot reassure you of anything. I went to visit her because ― well. My family has been so torn apart. We’ve lost so much. I never reconnected with either of my sisters. Bellatrix killed my daughter. Can you imagine that kind of pain?”

Harry shakes his head.

“And I hope you never can,” she continues. “I know you lost your parents, Harry, and the family you had as a child ― well. I know you’ve had it harder than most.”

Harry shrugs. “That was a long time ago,” he says. “I found a family at Hogwarts when I was eleven, and it’s only grown from there. I’m even close to my cousin now.”

Andromeda smiles at last, and the smile reaches the corners of her eyes. She looks beautiful. “Harry, I’m so glad. I’ve always thought you to be a lovely godfather to Teddy.”

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly.

“Delphini lost her parents as a baby, too,” Andromeda goes on, “and her childhood seemed to be as rotten as yours. Only she never escaped to Hogwarts. I think it was quite awful until she got to leave as an adult. Oh, I’m not justifying anything she did,” Andromeda says quickly. “That poor child she killed, and with Albus and Narcissa’s boy caught up in it all. Just awful.”

“It was,” Harry agrees.

“The girl has never had any family,” Andromeda says. “Delphini says Narcissa used to visit her every year as a child, and I hope that helped things. Obviously Narcissa hasn’t spoken to her since Scorpius went through all that. I don’t blame her. I can’t begin to explain how deep my hatred for Bellatrix goes.”

Harry sees Andromeda’s eyes flick towards the photo on the mantle, and he doesn’t think she knows she does it.

“I hate my sister, that is for certain,” Andromeda says. “Although, you know, I ― don’t always, maybe.”

“No?”

A sad smile twists Andromeda’s mouth. “Whatever I feel about Bellatrix, however much they look alike, Delphini is not her.”

“You want to be there for her, I think I can understand that,” Harry says. It’s a lie. “Why haven’t you reached out to Draco and Scorpius, then?”

Andromeda’s looking at the photo for real now. “Oh,” she says, “Draco never needed me. He grew up with parents who loved him. I tried once or twice, but it never seemed to take.”

“You should try again,” Harry says.

“Yes, you’re all friends now, aren’t you,” Andromeda says.

“Mmm,” Harry agrees. The feel of Draco’s mouth last night momentarily distracts him, but he’s not about to out Draco to his aunt.

“Lovely,” she says. “I never forgot about him, you know. But I knew he was safe. I wish Narcissa had told me about Delphini. She was our responsibility.”

They talk a bit more about Teddy and how he’s learning French. Harry tells the story about the time he was on duty at the French embassy, and didn’t know Google translate would turn “excited” into “horny.” Andromeda laughs, but Harry immediately knows she’s hoping he doesn’t tell another story like it. Whatever. _He_ knows it’s a funny story.

Harry finishes his tea. When he tells Andromeda the biscuits were delicious, he means it.

“I know you want to build a relationship with her, and I’m not trying to stand in the way of that,” Harry says before he leaves, “but if you can offer any more information about her, I’d be so, so grateful.”

“Harry,” Andromeda says.

“Please.”

Andromeda pauses. “Is she really staying at the old Black home?” she asks. “The papers said you dueled in the street and she went inside after.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Albus offered it to her. I ― don’t ― mind, I guess. I’m never there.”

“Interesting,” Andromeda says. “Perhaps she wants to connect to her past there.”

“Maybe she had no where else to go,” Harry says.

Andromeda gives him quite the look at that, and he falters.

“Did she ― did you offer her a place to stay?” Harry asks, his stomach dropping.

“Of course I did,” Andromeda says. “I don’t think she has any money. She came to me the day she was released and asked if she could stay with me.”

A chill fills Harry’s heart. That Delphini chose to stay in his house ― it floods through Harry like adrenaline.

“That’s ― oh,” Harry breathes.

Unaware of the moment, Harry was having, Andromeda bids him goodbye, and tells him she’ll see him at Jamie’s wedding.

Harry lands in his own fireplace a moment later. _Shit._

~ * ~

It’s quarter past nine, and Albus knows Delphini is going to go to turn in soon. She usually doesn’t make it much past nine. Two nights ago it was 9:52 when Albus noticed that Delphini had fallen asleep with her phone in her hand, curled on her side on the couch. He’d been painfully charmed, which he resented. He resented all of this. Like he asked for this dazzling woman to waltz into his shitty life and turn it upside down so it was even shittier when he was fourteen.

Now she’s no longer dazzling or waltzing ― it was all an act, Albus doesn’t even know her ― but still just as captivating. 

She’s on her phone again tonight, and as much as Albus wants to see her fall asleep again, he hadn’t enjoyed being blown off his feet when he touched her shoulder to wake her up.

His phone buzzes next to his laptop that he’s got set up.

_How’s your head?_

Albus smiles, doesn’t look at her.

_You barely touched me,_ he writes. _I don’t think you’re actually as powerful as you think you are._

Delphini lets out a snort of laughter across the room.

“Okay,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Albus grins back.

“Am I wrong?” he asks her aloud, teasing. (Flirting.)

_All kinds of wrong,_ comes the text. She’s looking at him over her phone, eyes bright in challenge.

_You can do anything?_ He’s looking back.

_Anything baby Potter can think of_

_Do you think you could manage to come to a wedding with me next weekend?_

Her bright stare falters a little. She looks at her phone instead. Albus holds his breath. She takes a while typing, but when she responds, all it says is,

_What?_

The room is probably filled with the sound of his heartbeat, but he keeps his breathing steady, manages to keep it together a little.

_My brother is getting married on the 14th. You should come with me._

_Why?_ The reply is a lot faster. She’s looking at him again.

Albus types again. He holds her stare when he sends it.

_Why not?_

They watch each other for a moment. Is it utterly cowardly what he’s doing? Yes. Immature? Of course. Slytherins aren’t known for their bravery, and Albus has never been known for good choices.

_Okay_

Albus stares at it, then meets her eyes again. She’s looking at him strangely, but honestly, that’s fair. He’s fucking nuts.

“Cool,” he says, flipping down the screen of his laptop. “I’m going to take off, then,”

Delphini’s still watching him, he can tell. He tries to pack up quickly. He needs desperately to be alone and react right now. The too-casual thing is stewing crazily inside him. It’s going to come out of his ears.

He zips his satchel closed and jerks his chin in her direction. Sure enough, she hasn’t looked away. “Later,” he offers, and turns to the fireplace.

“Bye,” says her voice behind him. He manages not to look.

It’s better at home where Scorpius is still out and Albus can lean his head against the wall without being asked questions he can’t answer even to himself.

In a way, he’s glad he did it through text. He can read it again and again, fucking screenshot it in his mind’s eye. And that’s what he does. Until Scorpius and Rose stumble in an hour later and ask him why he’s leaning against the wall like a drunk.

He tells them he’s drunk, yeah, that’s it.


	11. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets married, Delphini interacts with Muggles, Draco makes a decision.

Delphini had said yes, and obviously that had been occupying Albus’s thoughts leading up to the wedding, but when the day itself comes, he almost misses picking her up.

“Did Uncle Percy already adjust the Muggle distracting wards?” Ginny asks Albus. They’re in her kitchen along with almost every member of their family. The only thing keeping them alive is that her Quidditch career has been amazing, and her house in Mayfair has a massive kitchen.

“I just checked with him,” Albus shoots back, “he’s fine. What was in the headache potion Uncle Ron gave Sam’s grandmother? She’s got bubbles coming out of her ears. Can someone go check on her?”

“Lily!” Ginny shouts.

“What!”

“Go check on Mrs. Cheung!”

“I just did! Her headache is gone and she loves the bubbles. Mom, the portkeys are going to activate in one minute.”

“Shit.”

Albus is distracted at the sound of his mother swearing, but remembers with not a little bit of horror that he left the invitation in Scorpius’s car outside.

“Mum, I have to go,” Albus says in a rush.

“Your date?” Ginny says. She’s wearing an expression he can’t quite read, but there’s no time for that. “Go on then,” Ginny says.

Albus rushes through the kitchen and out the front door. Scorpius parked fairly close, but he probably has less than thirty seconds, and that’s if Lily was accurate.

The door is locked, but Albus shoots a quick _Alohamora_ at the car and it pops open. He climbs into the car hoping no Muggles are looking in the car, and disapparates with the wedding invitation in hand.

The front hall of Grimmauld Place is as dark and dreary as it ever is. Delphini’s sitting on the third stair, lit by the bluish light of her phone. She looks up when Albus lands.

“It’s a portkey,” Albus says, holding out the invitation to her, “and we’ve got, like, ten seconds.”

To her credit, she acts on this information immediately, standing up and reaching out to touch the other side of the heavy cardstock. They whirl away almost the second she touches it and they land hard on the other side.

The courtyard behind the church is beautiful, full of old ivy and carvings. Delphini stumbles in the cobblestone when they land, and without thinking, Albus grabs her forearm to steady her.

He’s burned almost immediately and he jerks his hand away. “Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his hand.

Delphini rights herself and looks at Albus. She reaches out as though to touch him, but of course she doesn’t. She flicks her fingers at his hand and the burning disappears immediately.

“This is great, we should do this more often,” Delphini says.

Albus laughs, which always seems to please her, and now they’re smiling at each other as wedding guests pop into the courtyard all around them.

Albus takes her in. She’s wearing a sleeveless black dress that has lace nearly up to her neck. The skirt flares out with more lace and stops just at her knees. Her hair is up in a high ponytail again. No jewelry. Albus had considered the possibility that she’d show up in something other than her usual t-shirt and sweats, so he was obviously, obviously, ready for this.

“You―” _look beautiful,_ “how are you? Sorry for the last minute madness.”

Delphini seems amused. “So rude,” she agrees.

Lily approaches them, and Albus has to push down the instinct to get between them. Delphini hasn’t harmed anyone in years, his burned hand aside. And when she knocked him over last week. And the guard she murdered.

“Hey,” Albus says. He’s been with Lily all day ― they’d had a traditional tea ceremony earlier in the day with the more immediate family, and everyone was getting ready at their mum’s ― but in all the chaos, he feels like he’s barely seen her at all.

All the bridesmaids are in different shades of blue, and Lily looks shockingly grown up in her navy gown. She’s got her hair in some elaborate style with tiny diamonds blinking out from within her auburn locks. She’s normally in jeans and Quidditch attire, but she seems as comfortable like this as she does on a broom.

“We should get inside. The wedding party needs a few extra minutes,” Lily says to Albus. She turns to Delphini. “Lily Potter,” she says, holding out her hand.

Delphini looks a little surprised, but only if you’re looking for it. “I assume I need no introduction,” she answers, and shakes her hand.

“No, but we could have pretended,” Lily says, letting go after a moment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Pretended like that, you mean?” Delphini asks.

Lily laughs a little. “Yeah,” she says. “Makes social interaction so much less awkward. Consider it.”

“I will,” says Delphini, smiling back.

Lily gives her a weird look that’s not altogether displeased, and Albus relaxes a bit. 

“You see Dad and Mr. Malfoy?” Lily says, turning back to Albus.

Albus glances over her shoulder and indeed sees them. “Don’t call him that, you’re 18, honestly,” Albus says.

“Still,” she says. “It’s weird, don’t you think? That they’re pretending?”

Albus shrugs. “He doesn’t want to take the attention on James’s day.”

“They’re together?” Delphini asks.

“Yeah,” says Lily. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Albus watches as Harry says something in Draco’s ear, and Draco laughs. They’re about as gross as Ginny and Oliver, in Albus’s opinion.

“Lily! Albus!” shouts Sam’s sister.

“Coming!” says Lily, and looks sharply at Albus.

“Right,” says Albus. “I’ve got to go,” he says to Delphini. “I see you after the ceremony?”

“If I’m not arrested,” she says.

“Well, you still get one phone call, so let me know so I don’t have to save you any cake,” he says, and lets Lily pull him inside.

“Oh God, she’s as weird as you are,” Lily tells him, which obviously means she approves.

~ * ~

Harry’s nervous as hell, which he’s trying to cover up by flirting with Draco. Unfortunately Draco was serious about saving Harry from himself and he quickly excused himself to go talk to Scorpius and Rose.

“It must be going well,” Ron says, sidling up to him with two beers.

“Thanks,” says Harry, taking a drink. “And no, yeah, it is. With Draco. It’s fine.”

Ron nods, skeptical.

“No,” Harry says, frustrated, “he doesn’t think we should come out to the world today. There are a ton of photographers here,” he says, nodding to where one woman is trying and failing to get an interview from Delphini. He and Ron watch as Andromeda says something stern to the unfortunate woman who goes a little pale and excuses herself. Her colleague snaps a photo of Andromeda and Delphini.

“So that’s her, eh?” Ron asks instead.

“That’s her,” Harry agrees. He feels ill.

“She doesn’t seem as bad as her parents, at least,” Ron says. “Only your regular run-of-the-mill murderer. She doesn’t seem to care about blood status.”

“Oh, for sure,” Harry says, “she’s lovely. So happy she and Albus have reconnected.”

Ron snorts into his beer. “Still, not much you can do about it, I guess,” he says. “Hermione says she’s not worried about her reoffending. Don’t,” he adds, suddenly terrified, “tell her I said that. Not sure if that counts as a confidentiality breach, or anything.”

“She told me the same thing,” Harry assures Ron, then freezes. “Not that I should be sharing that, either. Oh God.”

“Hey,” says Hermione.

“Nothing,” Harry and Ron say as one.

Hermione’s smile falters. “You guys make me feel so confident about things, you know? Like nothing is going wrong.”

Ron kisses her cheek. “Nothing’s going wrong,” he tells her. “And you look beautiful,” he adds.

“Well, aunt of the groom,” she says, “it’s a big role.” They all laugh, and despite everything, Harry feels a little better.

The ceremony is delightfully personalized, Harry thinks, sitting next to Ginny. Sam looks beautiful in shimmering, snow-white dress robes and holding a bouquet of pink and purple lilies. James looks striking in his tuxedo. You wouldn’t even be able to tell they were as crazy as they are if they hadn’t arrived together on a broomstick (with a trail of flowers attached to the twigs to accentuate the tricks they did in the air before arriving at the alter).

The Cheungs obviously know about James, and they’ve known their daughter for 24 years, so they take in the broomstick with a composed air that could rival Narcissa Malfoy (who is not in attendance). Harry kind of wants to shake them. _Aren’t they crazy?_ he wants to shout. _Aren’t you afraid of them being together??_

He tries to remember that Samantha is lovely, and Harry loves her, and he’s happy she is marrying into the family. It’s not hard when James is smiling at her like that.

Plus she’s better than Delphini. Harry hasn’t looked since they all sat down, but she was sitting at the back of the church with Andromeda looking unforgivably like a normal human.

Thank God Lily isn’t dating anyone. Harry doesn’t think his heart could take another one.

The happy couple said “I do,” Harry cried only a little bit, and the photographers jumped into action. The press caught up with Harry around the same time (_“Harry, how do you feel that part of Voldemort gets to be here and your parents don’t?”_), and he snarled at them until they went to bother other guests. He was polite to the hired photographers, but still a little mistrustful. By the time all the pictures are taken, Harry feels a little numb.

“Dad,” says James, coming up to Harry after the photographer lets them finally go.

Harry turns and hugs his son, fighting the urge to cry once again. Sam’s with him, and Harry hugs her too. “I’m so happy for you guys,” he says, meaning it. “I love you both so much.”

Harry remembers missing his own parents, wishing they could have been at his wedding, wishing Sirius could have been there. Harry has always made sure his kids know he loves them. Life is too damn short.

“Thanks, Dad,” James says. Sam beams at him. “Where’s Draco?” she asks.

“Over,” Harry gestures vaguely, “somewhere.” It’s a lie. Harry knows exactly where Draco is ― at his 8:00, talking to Audrey Weasley ― but he doesn’t need to say it. “He’s sitting with me and your mother at dinner.”

“It’s where we put all the old folk,” James says.

“Thanks,” says Harry, grinning.

“Okay, we’ll see you both at the reception,” Sam says.

They say thanks to a few other people, then James apparates them away.

“If you can have your attention!” Sam’s sister, Alyssa, speaks into Lily’s wand, which amplifies her voice. “The invitations are going to activate again to take everyone to the reception in five minutes. If you don’t have yours, come see me.” She repeats the message, Harry assumes, in Cantonese.

“How are you doing?” Ginny asks.

“Good,” Harry says, smiling at her. “I’m happy for them. Even if they scare me together.”

Ginny laughs. “For sure,” she says, even though Harry knows she doesn’t quite share his fears about James and Samantha. “That’s why I was surprised when Jamie told me you paid for their honeymoon to Bali.”

“Yeah,” Harry says slowly, “it’s Bali. They were talking about going to North Korea. Wait, Ginny. Ginevra. _What’s in Bali?_”

Ginny gives him a look. “It’s one of the most dangerous places in the world.”

“What?” Harry says. “_What?_ But the beaches. The tourism. The mimosas!”

“I don’t know what it’s like for Muggles,” says Ginny, ever the pureblood witch, “but there are three rival gangs that make up the wizarding community there. They all take turns overthrowing each other and forming government. It’s been going on for decades, Harry.”

Harry is utterly dismayed.

Ginny laughs at the look on his face. “I won’t tell Hermione you weren’t paying attention in History of Magic.”

“We studied Bali in History of Magic?” Harry all but cries.

Ginny walks away chuckling.

~ * ~

“Hey,” Albus says, coming up to Delphini at the back of the church, “sorry that took so long.”

“I figured it would,” Delphini says.

“Where’s Andromeda?” 

“Talking to someone. I think he’s Luna Lovegood’s father,” Delphini says.

“You’ve studied Luna, too?” Albus asks, meaning to go so light teasing, but remembering after he’s said it that they’re not friends and she doesn’t talk to him about whatever she’s doing with all her notes and books.

Delphini doesn’t laugh. “I had her for a judge.”

Albus exhales heavily. _I had her for a judge._ Because she was in prison. Because she killed someone. Because she killed a kid.

“Right,” Albus says. Fucking great.

“Do you need this?” Delphini asks, holding out the invitation portkey.

“Sure, thanks,” he says, taking the edge of it. He wants her to be here, but he really needs a moment to think. He remembers something from the day she was released.

“Ten seconds!” Alyssa calls.

Albus waits, counts. Then he pulls it out of Delphini’s hands and tosses it aside.

The portkeys all activate at once, and the crowd from the church disappears.

Delphini looks at the invitation on the floor. Portkeys only activate if something is touching them. “Okay,” she says slowly.

“Listen,” Albus says, “do you hate this? Do you want to be here?”

Delphini looks at him carefully. Her brown eyes are lined with dark make up, helping her look more fairytale than she usually does. Albus has to remind himself that murderer or not, she’s not her parents.

“I agreed to come,” she says, still looking at Albus like she’s not sure what to make of him.

“Sure, but do you want to be here. We could leave,” he says. “The press are already bothering you. I saw them.

“You’d come with me?” Delphini asks. “We could just walk off and go for chips somewhere?”

“I mean, we might be a little overdressed for chips,” he jokes.

Delphini doesn’t budge. “You’d leave?” she asks.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he says, looking at her.

Delphini looks back. “Well, I’m fine,” she says after a moment. “Thanks.”

Albus wants to ask if she’s sure, but he suspects that would just be insulting at this point. She can make choices for herself. “Okay,” he says, “good.”

He goes to pick up the invitation and holds it out to her. He’s standing on her other side now, and she’s lit from the light through the open church doors behind her. The late afternoon sunlight shines brightly behind her.

“Here,” he says, “I know you can delay portkeys.”

Delphini looks down at the invitation, pulls it out of Albus’s hand this time. It’s hard to see her expression, but he sees that she smiles, can hear it in her voice when she answers. “I’ll do you one better,” she says, and the world goes dark.

They hit the ground at the edge of the tent just as hard, but Delphini stands firm, even in her heels. She’s still grinning.

Albus laughs. “That was cool,” he agrees, though privately he’s a little disappointed they didn’t have to touch for her type of apparating, even if that makes it more impressive.

“I know,” she says, and they make their way into the tent.

Inside is decorated with thousands of twinkling lights at the ceiling, some magical and some not. Candles float in bowls of water at every table. The tent is massive, fitting the hundred or so guests without a problem. James and Samantha have seats together at the top of the dance floor, and everyone else has namecards at one of the round tables around the room.

“Albus!” calls a voice. Albus turns and is a little bit relieved it’s a Muggle.

“Hey, Uncle Dudley,” Albus says. “Delphini, this is Dudley and Kristen and Ava Dursley,” he says, gesturing to Dudley, his wife, and their daughter respectively.

“Delphini,” Kristen repeats. “You all have such interesting names. Does it mean anything in your culture?” she asks.

Before Delphini’s astonished stare can translate into words, Dudley puts in, “Delphini,” he repeats with a vague frown, “why do I know that name?”

Albus would have put it down to her name being all over wizarding news if Delphini hadn’t frozen, making her look more guilty than words ever could have.

“I don’t know,” she says. “The name is a constellation.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” says Kristen, smiling, while Albus’s insides have turned to ice. “Your parents must be very creative people.”

Delphini’s staring incredulously at the floor, but she looks a little more normal when she looks back up at Kristen. “I’ll tell them you said so,” she says tightly.

“I don’t think it’s that,” Dudley says with a shake of his head.

“No, Dad, you’re right. I’ve heard of her too,” Ava agrees. “Or maybe someone else named that.”

“There are a lot of us,” Delphini tries.

“Of course,” Kristen says, nodding.

“I’m sure I’ll think of it!” Dudley says brightly. “Dear, there’s Harry and Ginny, let’s go say hi. See you, Albus.”

“Bye,” Albus says distantly. He turns to Delphini, unable to hide his misery.

She looks as distressed as he’s ever seen her, which isn’t to say much, but she’s worrying her lip.

“Why do they know you?” he asks quietly.

She shakes her head.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m not going to ask you to trust me,” she says. Her voice is cold, but the way she’s looking at him is anything but.

“Should I trust you?” he asks.

“Probably not,” she replies. “I tried to kill you.”

“I fucking know,” he snaps. “That’s not an answer. I’m trying, but you’re not giving me much.”

“Why do I have to?” she returns. “Why should I explain myself to you?”

Albus falters. Because he’s angry and scared, but she’s completely right. Maybe she’s planning to overthrow the government, but maybe she used to work with Dudley at some Muggle place. Who knows? He has nothing concrete to suggest she’s Plotting Evil, so it’s actually none of his business. The truth of this kills him.

He exhales hard. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re right.”

“What?” she asks.

He rubs his face. “You’re right,” he repeats. “It’s not my business. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

She looks at him like he’s crazy, which people do a lot to Albus.

“You look beautiful,” he adds, because he’s out of fucks to give and he’s been aching to say it all day.

Her incredulous look only intensifies. It’s a relief when Sam interrupts them.

“Hey,” she says, “you must be Delphini, thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for having me,” Delphini says blankly. They shake hands.

“Look, I’ve got you guys with the rest of the wedding party and their dates. My sister and her husband are next to you, I think. Have you met Alyssa and Mattieu? He has a terrible peanut allergy. You guys haven’t eaten any recently, have you?”

Sam ushers them to their seats, introducing them to Alyssa and Mattieu, and leaving them to go find her other bridesmaid.

“Dear God, did you talk to Kristen?” Alyssa says to Albus and Delphini. “She complimented me on my English. I was born in Leeds!”

“She said my name was creative,” Delphini says.

The other bridesmaid finally joins them and sits next to Mattieu. “Are we talking about Kristen?” she asks, delighted. She’s white, so Albus thinks she probably doesn’t have anything to add, but apparently not. “She said I was so brave standing up there next to all those skinny Asian women.”

“Jesus,” Albus says.

“Why would it be brave?” Lily asks.

The other bridesmaid levels a glare Lily’s way. Melanie, Albus thinks she’s called. “Are you shitting me?” Melanie asks.

Lily blinks. “I’m on the spectrum,” she says. “Sometimes I don’t really get sarcasm and things like that.”

Melanie’s look softens. “Oh, man,” she says, “Kristen must be great with you. Horrible, I mean,” she corrects.

Lily shrugs. “She used to cry and tell me how beautiful I was whenever she saw me when I was little. Mum nearly punched her once, and she stopped.”

Alyssa and Melanie laughed together.

“I would have loved to see that!” Melanie says.

“I think she means well,” Lily adds, but she’s laughing too. They spend some time shit-talking Kristen, and the mood at the table relaxes. They’re joined by two of James’s friends and their dates. They all clearly know who Delphini is, but no one says anything.

“And her daughter’s clearly horrified by her,” Alyssa adds as dinner draws to a close.

Harry and Ginny have just made a speech to the happy couple, and Albus thinks it might be the last of the speeches, thank Merlin.

“Oh, for sure,” Lily agrees.

“Call her over to the cool table,” Melanie says. “Why are we letting her sit with her parents?”

Lily stands up to talk to their cousin, and Ava comes over looking relieved.

“Hey,” she says.

“So, Ava, you’re _Muggle_,” Melanie says.

“Er, yeah,” says Ava, “aren’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” says Melanie. “I just think today’s been a little surreal, is all. How are you related to witches and wizards?”

“My dad and their dad are cousins,” Ava says.

“And, what, one of them was magic and one wasn’t?”

“Yeah,” says Ava, and proceeds to explain all about Lily the First and Petunia the Last. Apparently Dudley and his parents don’t talk and Ava’s seen her grandparents twice ever.

“Amazing,” says Alyssa. “Honestly, I was surprised when Sam told us about James, but I’m not surprised she found a wizard and married him.”

“We’re not all totally insane like Jamie,” Albus puts in. He’s taken off his suit jacket and is leaning back in his chair now. Dinner has gone well, and he’s letting the atmosphere and two glasses of wine lull him into happiness.

“Well, you two seem fairly normal,” Melanie says, waving her wine glass at Albus and Delphini.

They make brief eye contact, but Albus has to look away before he laughs. Delphini seems to be answering an email but she buries a smirk in her phone.

“Yep,” says Delphini, putting her phone face down on the table.

“Hey, do you want me to hold onto that?” Albus asks. “You don’t have a purse.”

“No, this dress has pockets,” she replies.

There’s a collective gasp from the women at the table.

“See?” Melanie says, “Magic.”

Delphini laughs. “Do you want to see some real magic?”

One of James’s friends and his date abruptly leave the table. Delphini watches them go, but turns back to Melanie, waiting for her answer.

“Of course,” says Melanie.

“Okay, hang on,” says Delphini. She looks at Melanie consideringly, then waves a hand at her. “Go on,” she says.

“Go on what?” Melanie asks.

“Try it,” Delphini says.

“Oh shit,” Melanie says. She throws out her hand in front of her and watches it glow with magic. Their table is shocked silent.

“Now try a spell,” Delphini says.

“Cast a Patronus!” Lily tells her.

“A what?” Melanie asks. She’s staring wide-eyed at her hand.

“Think of something happy,” Delphini says. “Like, the happiest memory you have. Think of it and say _Expectro Patronum_. Say it like you mean it.”

“_Expecto Patronum_,” Melanie repeats, and a silver grasshopper leaps out of her hand and goes bouncing around the table in front of them, splashing in the bowl of floating candles and back out again. The Muggles at the table are openly astonished, enough so as to not notice that the witches and wizards are openly horrified.

“Amazing,” Alyssa says when it finally vanishes.

Melanie looks up at Delphini, then rushes to her feet. “Can I hug you?” she asks.

Delphini laughs. “I guess,” she says, and is immediately enveloped by Melanie’s blonde curls.

When Melanie pulls back, there are tears on her cheeks. “Silver bugs and dresses with pockets. It’s a whole world I never knew about.”

Delphini waves her hand, and Melanie’s flowing dress suddenly has two subtle pockets that are surprisingly deep when Melanie puts her hands in.

“Can I get you a drink?” Melanie says. “Please.”

“I’m not drinking tonight,” says Delphini.

Melanie looks surprised, then she wiggles her eyebrows at Albus. “Really?” she says.

Albus chokes.

“I wouldn’t say no to a pumpkin juice,” Delphini says.

“Sure, Albus?” Melanie asks, still smirking at him.

“No,” Albus says, recovering a little, “it always tastes like Hogwarts to me.”

Delphini gives him a look when Melanie goes to retrieve her drink. Alyssa has meanwhile left the table and is now announcing the bride and groom’s first dance.

“What?” Albus asks.

“You didn’t like school?” she asks.

Albus makes a face as James and Samantha begin to dance. “Of course not,” he says.

“Not even ― before?”

“What, you think you were single-handedly responsible for ruining my time at school?” he asks. “Hardly. I told you you’re not nearly as powerful as you think you are.”

Delphini doesn’t laugh this time. Maybe it’s the fact that she is without a doubt the most powerful person in the room. Giving magic to a Muggle, even for a short time, is unheard of.

Unsurprisingly, their table becomes quite popular with the Muggle guests.

The party is in full swing, and Sam’s little cousins are floating around about three feet off the floor. The more they burp, the faster they propel around the dance floor. The charm wears off after about five minutes, and the kids keep running back to Delphini.

Harry was over at their table, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of Delphini interacting with children, but there was very little he could say or do, and anyway, Hermione came to drag him back to the boring side of the room a few minutes later.

“Can you do another one?” an eight year old girl asks Delphini.

Delphini snaps her fingers at the girl (a move Albus suspects is entirely unnecessary) and the girl floats off to her parents who are snapping pictures with their phones. Albus wonders how the statute of secrecy applies to Muggles who answer to a different government, and feels like he should have paid attention either to more classes at school.or more lectures from Auntie. The press are still all around, though, so clearly this is above board.

As the night goes on, there are fewer children still there as the parents take their children home and the remaining adults start drinking more heavily. Albus had quietly asked Delphini at around 5:50 if she’d be leaving soon, and she said something about having applied for permission, et cetera. Her answer had been a little bit thrilling.

Scorpius conspicuously does not come by their table, and Albus won’t subject him to Delphini needlessly. A slow song starts up, and he finally gets the courage to ask Rose, his girlfriend of three years, to dance.

Albus snorts at the delighted look on Scorpius’s face. It’s comical how happy he is, but part of Albus is laughing because he’s jealous and handles emotions badly.

Although.

Melanie hugged Delphini and wasn’t propelled through the side of the tent. She’d done something Albus actually hadn’t done yet ― asked.

Delphini comes back from having placed a small box on the gifts table and takes her seat next to Albus.

“I don’t see any more children, do you?” she asks, looking a little bit hunted.

Albus smiles. “I think you’re safe,” he says.

“Until Melanie gets back from the toilets,” Delphini says.

“Not out of magic already, are you?” Albus teases. “Be embarrassing, that.”

Delphini leans back in her chair and toys with the napkin ring next to her. “I am actually as powerful as I think I am,” she tells him with a smile.

“I’m sure,” says Albus. Then, “Would you like to dance?”

Delphini’s fingers still on the ring, so he knows she heard him.

Albus swallows, and in an uncharacteristically brave move, stands. He holds his hand out to her, praying. “Dance with me. Please,” he says.

A painfully long moment passes. Almost no one around them notices. The lights are lower now and the music is loud. The press will notice soon enough, Albus is sure, but until then it’s just him and her in this moment, brown eyes staring into green, more hanging on her answer than Albus wants to admit, but he admits it anyway. He admits it to himself now.

Delphini doesn’t actually answer. After a moment, her hand slips into his and she stands, still looking at him, looking for what, Albus doesn’t know. Her touch doesn’t burn, but it might as well.

She doesn’t look away as he leads them to the dance floor, and then they turn slowly to face each other. Albus takes a step in, watching her eyes to judge her reaction. He’s careful not to step in too close. Their hands are still linked, but Albus places his other hand on her waist.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

Delphini nods wordlessly. Albus feels her other hand come to rest on his shoulder. He hasn’t looked away, and looking at Delphini is always intense, but Albus feels like he’s burning with it now, turning to ash under her gaze.

He steps, and so does she. They aren’t following any dance that Albus knows of, the kind he sees at Scorpius’s grandparents’ parties sometimes, but they’re dancing, _dancing_. He’s not looking away, and neither is she.

~ * ~

Harry’s been trying to enjoy himself, despite Voldemort’s literally-a-murderer child playing with Muggles and their kids at James’s wedding.

“I’m fine,” Harry says to Ron again. Ron finally shrugs and asks Hermione to dance.

“How are you doing?” Draco asks.

“Oh, we’re talking now?” Harry asks mildly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we talked all throughout dinner,” Draco says, just as mildly. He’d already asked Harry to go home with him after while Alyssa was giving her speech. Harry had grinned and kicked him under the table. He figured they were doing okay.

Harry’s watching Albus and Delphini join the other couples on the dance floor, Delphini just a little unsteady in her heels. They look striking together, a study of black and whites ― black hair and pale skin, a black dress, a white shirt. Albus has his head bowed a little, meeting her upturned gaze. They’re beautiful and it’s awful. Awe-full, awe-some. They all apply to the murderer who gave magic to Muggle children and made them laugh, who tried to bring back the Dark Lord.

“It seems like she likes him,” Draco says softly. “That’s better than the alternative, at least.”

“It seemed like that before, too,” Harry says, but he’s hoping Draco is right. He hasn’t forgotten trying to stun Albus, the only time he’s turned his wand on his child in his life, and having the spell caught by Delphini’s power.

The press catches wind of Albus and Delphini, and if that isn’t news, Harry doesn’t know what is.

“Shit,” he says.

“What?” Draco asks.

Harry jerks his chin in their direction. “Look,” he says, dismaying. Harry is caught up in some complicated feelings. He hates Albus and Delphini, but they’re not going to be driven apart by an article or two. Albus deserves what actually might be his first dance with a woman, Harry realizes.

“God, the press are going to love this,” he says, finally throwing an anguished look at Draco, but Draco looks a little strange, like he’s deep in thought.

“But there’s one thing,” Draco says slowly, “that they’ll always love more.”

Harry’s mouth falls open when Draco grabs him by his collar, which is a happy chance, because Draco’s mouth finds his a second later. Draco pulls him in and kisses him deeply.

Realizing what Draco’s doing actually makes Harry want him more ― that Draco would do this for Albus, for Harry―

“God, are you sure?” Harry whispers when they momentarily come up for air.

“Yes,” Draco says, and leans back in.

Harry responds with enthusiasm, but apparently that’s not even enough because Draco has bigger plans. They sway into the table, knocking it hard. Glasses clink together, drawing some attention their way. Draco clears half the table with a wave of his wand, and then pushes Harry down onto it. That draws the rest of the attention. Harry can hear the paparazzi clicking away, _”Harry, how does a former Death Eater taste?”_, he could fucking kill them, but he’s a little distracted by Draco’s teeth on his neck.

“God, you’re amazing,” Harry says, clutching Draco’s robes.

Draco raises his head from Harry’s neck, which hadn’t been exactly Harry’s desired outsome, grins at him, and bring their mouths back together. Harry groans a little as Draco climbs properly on top of him. He’s getting hard, and this is going to be in the papers and on _Twitter_, and what the hell is that? ― yep ― the bowl of extinguished candles got upturned and soaks Harry’s white shirt. 

“This is crazy,” Harry says into Draco’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Draco asks. “I think it’s kind of hot.”

“That too,” Harry agrees, and kisses him again.

~ * ~

There’s a commotion going on somewhere on the other side of the tent ― they’re probably doing shots or something ― but Albus is completely entranced. He’s dancing with Delphini, and it’s more than he imagined, and oh, did he imagine.

Her hand is cool in his, and the feel of her waist is intoxicating. She’s so beautiful it hurts. Albus wants more, he wants everything, and he also doesn’t want to ever leave this moment.

The moment does end. The song finishes and another one starts up. He doesn’t want to let go, which apparently works out for Delphini, because she doesn’t let go either. There’s a fast song blaring out around them, and they’re still in a pantomime of another dance.

“I should go,” Delphini says eventually. She doesn’t let go yet.

“All right,” Albus whispers back. He doesn’t either.

Delphini does that thing that seems like apparation, but is actually something else.

She takes Albus with her.


	12. Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content

Friends: I don’t know where all of you live, but please take COVID-19 seriously and act accordingly. Be safe. We’re all in this together. ❤ ~Lydia

They’re still holding each other when they land in the hall at Grimmauld Place. For a moment, it’s still, perfectly quiet. Albus still needs a second to figure out why she did this, but he’s starting to wonder if it’s in fact that obvious.

He steps closer, closer again until he’s backed her into the wall.

She bumps against the wall and doesn’t take her eyes off of him, breathing heavy now. She does glance down to his lips.

“Can I?” Albus whispers. His hand comes up to caress her face. He’s impossibly turned on.

She kisses him in answer, and it’s like a dam breaking. Albus falls into the kiss, licking into her mouth that opens hot under his. She pushes back, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him as close as she can.

He thought kissing her might be surreal ― a fantasy, and made dull by having been fulfilled ― but it’s the opposite; nothing has been more real. Nothing is brighter than the feel of her body as he holds her against him. She bites at his lip and he feels the sensation shoot down his spine.

Moving back only far enough to kiss her neck, he bites at the exposed skin, too desperate to go slow. He reaches the lace of her high neckline too soon.

“God, I want you,” Albus tells her, moving back to her mouth.

“Fuck,” she says.

“Please, Delphini,” he breathes, kissing her between words, “tell me you want to.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Now. Right here.”

It wasn’t exactly an invitation to do what he did next, but the look on her face when he drops to his knees tells him it’s more than welcome.

He runs his hands up the sides of her thighs, but not too high. He keeps eye contact. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks. (Begs.)

She breathes an incredulous laugh, as though he could have known she wanted this, and nods.

He finds her knickers and slowly pulls them down her legs. That he’s being allowed to touch her at all is amazing, but to actually undress her ― to actually have her sex so close to his mouth ― is beyond words.

He tosses the knickers aside without looking at them at all. He couldn’t care less what she’s wearing. Delphini is shaking a little under his touch. He’s doing that to her ― _him_.

Pushing up the skirt of her dress, he finally lays eyes on her cunt ― perfect, with a dark bush against pale skin.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at her for confirmation.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

He touches her with his fingertips first, drawing another shudder out of her, and spreading her labia just a little. No one knows, though it’s probably obvious to anyone who’s been paying attention, but he’s never had sex. That said, Auntie’s pamphlets aside, Albus has lived in the world for a while now, and it’s not fucking rocket science.

The first taste is incredible. He starts lightly, drawing a gasp from Delphini as he first places his tongue on her. Slow, go slow, he tells himself. He wants to live in this moment ― die in it ― forever.

One of her hands rests lightly at the back of his head, stroking his hair just a little. He starts a slow rhythm on her clit, licking and pushing just a little more. He counts it as a personal victory when her stroking falters.

A moan breaks from Delphini’s throat, and Albus nearly comes right there. She’s exquisite. Beautiful. He’d give anything to make her come like this.

“What do you want?” Albus asks, laying a kiss on her thigh and looking up at her.

She looks wrecked. Her mouth is open, she’s flushed. He palms himself just a little through his trousers to take the edge off.

“Do you want more of this?” he asks. “Could you come like this?”

“Yes,” she says, breathless, looking like even that much was difficult to say.

He smiles at how far gone she is. “Can I put my fingers in you?” he asks.

She just nods, wide-eyed.

So Albus returns to his place of worship, pushing her clit in the same rhythm as before, only he encourages her to rest a leg on his shoulder. When she complies, it’s with a gasp and a moan, and those sounds sing in his blood.

He strokes along her vulva until his fingers can dip inside. She’s desperately wet, and he wants to live in her. He strokes her inside with two fingers as he eats her, faster and faster as her gasps rise above him.

Then she fucking does it. She comes with a broken moan. Albus licks her through it, careful to stop as the last of her spasms die down. He carefully removes his fingers and presses a reverent kiss to the left of her vulva.

“God,” he hears her say.

“No need to call me that,” he says, and a startled laugh breaks out of her. He grins up at her.

“You should put it in me,” she says, quietly. He almost doesn’t realize what she means.

“Seriously?” he asks, stunned.

Delphini nods, reaches out a hand, and catches the condom that’s flying towards them. She tosses it down at him with a grin. “So your dad doesn’t have a heart attack,” she says.

Albus makes a face. “Can we not talk about him right now?”

Delphini laughs. “Never know what you’re into,” she says.

“I’m into _you_,” he says, rising to his feet now. She stops laughing when she sees his expression.

“Good,” she whispers, and kisses him.

They go slow, carefully, maybe. He kisses her deeply, trying to say it all with a press of lips, somehow. He wonders what she’s saying back, if anything. Her fingers tangle in his hair as they kiss, stroking and pulling just a little. It’s erotic and sweet. He wants her, he _wants_ her…

“Can we ―” he asks.

Delphini nods, then does him one better, as usual. She finds the fastenings on his trousers and make short work of them. Then he’s in her hand and she’s stroking him achingly slowly, eyes bright and watching him.

He groans, dropping his head on her shoulder. “That feels amazing,” he tells her.

“You know what would feel even better…” she prompts.

He laughs. “Right. Yeah.” He fumbles with the condom (taking a moment to remember all those fucking pamphlets) and manages not to screw it up.

Then Delphini takes him in hand, wraps one leg around his waist, and pulls him into her.

They both groan.

Neither of them move for a moment.

“Do you want to … lying down?” Albus asks. He’s wondering, but mostly he needs a moment not to come immediately. He’s inside of her and it’s incredible.

“Whatever you want,” Delphini says. “This is good. Up to you.”

Albus pulls out a little, and experimentally pushes back in. Delphini’s eyes flutter shut. He abruptly knows they’re not going to make it to a fucking bed.

He hooks his hand under her legs and pushes in again. And again. Holy fuck, it’s amazing, it’s everything. He leans forward and she meets him for another kiss. It’s messy and they don’t stop. He’s fucking her hard now, moaning into her mouth. The breathy sounds she makes on every thrust are almost better than the sensation of burying himself in her again and again.

“Delphini,” he moans as they fuck. She’s tight and warm and everything he’s ever wanted. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah,” she gasps, “do it. Fuck.”

So he does. With a final thrust, he loses himself in her, coming and coming into her heat.

When he returns, he kisses her again in thanks, in worship, in―

“God, you’re amazing,” he whispers.

She doesn’t reply to that, but he doesn’t expect her to. Instead they kiss again until he finally slips out of her.

They finally break apart. She looks down and takes care of the mess.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Albus says, tucking himself back into his trousers.

At that she laughs again. She’s smiling, and he’s never seen anything so beautiful. He wants to tell her that again and again.

“Delphini,” he begins.

“Shh,” she says suddenly.

The look in her eyes freezes him to the spot.

“Do you hear something?” Albus asks quietly.

Delphini’s eyes widen, and she presses her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say a word,” she says.

~ * ~

After a long night of fucking Draco Malfoy, Harry pries open his eyes. They’re in Draco’s lavish flat, and the sun is streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows in Draco’s bedroom.

He’s alone and hard. _Rude_, he thinks, stretching.

The tiles in the flat are cool as Harry shrugs on Draco’s housecoat and meanders into the living room.

Draco’s smile is brighter than the sun when he looks up from his book. Harry drapes himself over his lap and kisses him good morning.

“You’re in a good mood,” Draco says when Harry … makes his erection improbable to ignore.

“Mmm,” Harry agrees. “The sun is shining, there’s a beautiful man under me, oh ― the papers haven’t come.”

“Any second now, I’m sure,” Draco says, waving his wand (his real one) at the balcony doors so the owl can get in.

“Must you?” Harry says, kissing Draco’s neck.

“Sure,” Draco says, unaffected ― for now, Harry thinks. “Don’t you want to see if we beat Albus for the headline?”

Harry frowns into Draco’s jaw. “Can we not talk about him right now?”

Draco laughs, and the telltale swoop of an owl’s wings passes overhead.

“There’s a treat in the bowl,” Draco tells the owl, shaking the paper open with the hand not in Harry’s hair.

“Tell me some good news,” Harry says, placing a kiss next to Draco’s ear. He feels it when Draco tenses.

“Harry, stop,” he says. “Look.”

Harry looks. And there’s the headline: EXPLOSION AT GRIMMAULD PLACE: UNIDENTIFIED BODY FOUND


	13. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is dead? Find out here.

Trangfigured robes are never a great idea, but it’s all Harry has time for at the moment. He slams into the pavement outside Grimmauld Place with Draco’s crack of apparation following him a second later.

The house is a charred shell. Aurors are everywhere, trying to convince the Muggle firefighters who can’t see the house that the smoke is coming from a street or two over.

Harry grabs the closest Auror to him. It’s Singh. “Has the body been identified?” Harry chokes.

“No, sir,” says Singh. “Forensics are working on it now. Female, maybe 5’7”, we don’t know more.”

Harry sags with relief, not even sure who catches him until Draco’s voice is in his ear. “It’s not Albus,” Draco says, over and over, “it’s not Albus, Harry. It’s not him.”

Harry clutches Draco’s robe hard, turning to press their foreheads together. “Thank you,” Harry breathes ― to Draco, to the universe.

Singh is long-gone, here to do actual work. Harry isn’t even on-call, something Draco knows when he suggests they go find Albus.

There are anti-disapparation wards on the boys’ flat, so Harry and Draco have to knock, have to wait.

Rose opens the door. “Oh thank God,” she says, and moves so Harry and Draco can enter.

“Al,” Harry chokes, when he sees his son on the couch. Albus stands, and they crush each other together in a hug. 

“I thought―” Harry is saying into his son’s hair. “Oh, God.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Albus replies, and his arms go around him. Harry squeezes his eyes tight against the tears there.

“What _happened?_” Harry gasps as they finally come apart.

Albus flinches a little. “Delphini and I left during the dancing, and we, you know, were just hanging out at Grimmauld Place when she hears something.”

― “_Don’t say a word,_” Delphini breathes, hand over Albus’s mouth. This has a very unfortunate physical side effect in Albus’s pants, but he nods.

Delphini creeps silently down the hall. They’re on the second floor near the drawling room, and Delphini takes the servant’s hallway that seemed even more disused than the rest of the house. Albus follows her.

When she pushes open the door to the back staircase, Albus finally smells it: Smoke.

He grabs her hand and pulls her away from the staircase. She whips around, eyes flaring in anger, but doesn’t react otherwise. He drops her hand and holds his own up in apology.

Delphini motions for him to stay put, but he shakes his head. He gestures that they should go. Both of them. Now.

Delphini either doesn’t understand, or prefers to ignore him ― what’s Albus thinking, of course it’s the latter ― and slips silently down the stairs. She’s still barefoot, her hair coming out of her ponytail a little from where she must have been leaning against the wall. Albus follows her.

It’s immediately obvious that it’s not regular fire when they reach the kitchen doorway. Fiendfyre. Licking up the kitchen walls, eating into the ceiling. It’s not everywhere yet, but there are dragons forming in the smoke, snakes unfurling from the flames, and a weird creature like an insect. More like a tarantula, but with less―

“Delphini, wait,” Albus says.

“Get out, Albus,” she says, already halfway across the kitchen.

The hallway on the other side of the kitchen is already glowing with the flicker from beyond the doorway. It’s clearly worse out there already.

“No, we’ll both go,” Albus says, a little frantically. He doesn’t want to go with her towards the flames … but she’s going towards the flames.

He catches up with her at the far side of the kitchen. Rather than touching her again, he has the good sense to get in front of her this time.

“Get out of my way,” she tells him.

“No, listen―”

He’s outside on the pavement in front of the house before he can finish his sentence.

―Harry’s listening, horrified. Delphini saved his son ― _again_, he thinks in awe.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says again.

Albus nods, still debating whether or not to tell his dad the rest of the story, and decides to save it for perhaps another time. Another time when James isn’t in Bali and Dad looks like he isn’t going to have a heart attack.

― _Albus swears loudly before reaching for his wand and turning once on the spot. He apparates―_

―and immediately lands on the pavement again.

“_Delphini_,” he curses, and runs up to the door of the house to do it the old fashioned way. He wonders if there’s anywhere he wouldn’t follow her.

Smoke streams out into the night when he opens the door, and it’s dark inside. He lights the tip of his wand and pulls the collar of his shirt up to breathe through and try to keep the smoke out. It barely works.

Then suddenly he doesn’t need his wand for light anymore.

Delphini’s room is at the end of the glowing hallway. Albus doesn’t think he’s been more afraid in his life, and he’s seen Voldemort, technically.

Best to take it at a sprint, he thinks, watching the flames stretch out from both walls. It’s like playing the floor is fiendfyre, but where everything is.

He breaks into a run, and the heat is incredible. He feels the burning on his arms and wonders if he’s on fire. He, Lily, James, and Ava used to put their fingers through the candles at Uncle Dudley’s dinners to amuse themselves while Aunt Kristen was getting weepy over Lily’s tragic condition and Mum was looking more and more like someone was about to get punched. They’d do it so quick, each trying to impress the others, but the truth was that you didn’t actually get burned if you did it fast enough, if the flame was so little. If you threw yourself into the sun, you were going to get burned no matter how fast you ran.

Albus falls into the door more than pushes it open. Delphini, gathering up her books and papers in a rush, doesn’t even notice Albus over the crackling and hissing.

He looks up at her from the floor, lungs burning, wondering vaguely how her damn notes can be so important, but mostly thinking how curious it is that people fall in love.

He wakes up on the pavement of a street he does not recognize. Delphini’s face blots out the half-moon above her.

“Stupid child,” she says, kneeling beside him.

Albus tries to get up. He’s immediately pushed back down without Delphini lifting a hand. His head hits the pavement a little painfully.

Then just as suddenly, the pain is gone. Like magic.

“Thank you,” he says to her, not trying to get up again. His lungs don’t hurt anymore, nothing feels even a little bit sore. He’s actually quite happy where he is.

“So _polite,_” she sneers.

Her hair is truly a mess by now. There are smears of soot on her left arm and cheek. Her cheeks are flushed and Albus is grateful that she’s shown little sign of being actually able to read minds.

“Are you all right?” Albus asks.

“Am _I_ all right?” Delphini repeats. “You were on _fire_.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Albus agrees. “I already said thank you.”

Delphini all but snarls at him. She gets to her (bare) feet and seems to have a silent fit. “Albus Severus _Potter_,” she yells at the sky, making his name sound profane.

Albus had been more than willing to lie in the street and flirt a little more, but he’s starting to think he should get the fuck up.

“Delphini―” he tries, getting up on his elbows.

“If I ask you to stay here, can you wait about twenty minutes without killing yourself?” she asks him.

“I’d do almost anything you asked me to,” Albus tells her, apparently not done flirting after all.

She looks briefly startled, something of the woman he’d made love to showing through, then her face smooths over again. “Like get out of a burning building?” she mutters.

“Almost anything,” Albus reminds her with a small grin.

“As _if_ I was in any danger,” she rages, tossing her head back at the sky once more. “Albus. You _know_ what I’m capable of. I can handle the occasional murder attempt.”

“You think someone was trying to kill us? Wait, _occasional murder attempt?_”__

_ _Delphini rolls her eyes. “Yeah, someone is trying to kill me. Big surprise. Much shock.”_ _

_ _“Someone’s trying to kill you?” Albus repeats, scrambling to his feet. She lets him stand, eyes wary. “Does Hermione know?”_ _

_ _Delphini watches him, doesn’t answer. It’s answer enough. Albus swears._ _

_ _“Can you wait here?” Delphini asks him again. She’s not visibly angry anymore, but who knows what that means._ _

_ _“Where are we?” Albus asks._ _

_ _“Croydon.”_ _

_ _Albus looks around. They’re near a bus stop with a bench. “I can do twenty minutes if you promise not to go back in that house.”_ _

_ _Delphini sighs. “The house is gone now,” she tells him._ _

_ _“So that’s a promise,” Albus insists._ _

_ _“Why would you even take my word?” she asks him. She says it without a shred of emotion, but maybe she’s really asking. Maybe she wants to know._ _

_ _“Why would you take mine?” Albus counters._ _

_ _“Aren’t Gryffindors all noble and trustworthy?” she asks hollowly, which is a bizarre thing to say, least of all because―_ _

_ _“I was in Slytherin.”_ _

_ _Delphini looks startled for the second time that night. She stares at him a moment and seems to realize what she said was strange._ _

_ _“Then I guess I’m not taking your word,” she tells him, but it’s with a small smile. “Listen, can you just stay here for one―”_ _

_ _“Kiss me,” Albus says._ _

_ _“What?”_ _

_ _“You know I’m going to sit my arse here for as long as you want, just kiss me first.”_ _

_ _She seems to deliberate. Then at last she steps forward. “Albus Severus Potter,” she says again, and this time his name sounds even worse. He smiles into the kiss. There’s no tongue, just lips pressed hard against each other, and it’s so much he’s drowning in it._ _

_ _He’s still smiling to himself when she returns eleven and a half minutes later with a dead body._ _

_ _― “God, I’m so sorry,” Harry says, unable to step too far away from Albus. _ _

_ _“It’s okay, Dad, no one was hurt,” says Albus._ _

_ _“I know, but―” There’s a pause in which Harry looks around at Draco, looks at Scorpius and Rose’s unhappy expression, looks at the smoke coming out from behind the closed bathroom door._ _

_ _“Oh my God,” says Harry._ _

_ _“I mean, someone was clearly trying to kill us,” Albus says, “which is why we _might_ have robbed a morgue―”_ _

_ _― “_Who the hell is that?_” Albus demands, shooting to his feet._ _

_ _“She’s me,” Delphini says, looking exhausted. “Just ― I didn’t _kill_ her. I got her from a morgue. I’m going to burn her and put her in the house.”_ _

_ _“Jesus Christ, Delphini.”_ _

_ _“No one’s going to come after me if they think I’m dead.”_ _

_ _“She doesn’t even look like you,” Albus says, noting that the obese woman looks about seventy even as he tries not to look at her._ _

_ _“I’m going to burn her well,” Delphini says._ _

_ _― “Jesus Christ, Albus,” Harry says, putting his head in his hands. _ _

_ _“It was the only way, Dad. Whoever’s doing this ― if it even _is_ one person ― is going to stop for a while if they think they succeeded.”_ _

_ _“So …” Harry says, trying to pull his shit together, “she’s, what, trying to start another fire in the loo?”_ _

_ _Everyone looks at the door to the washroom. Something that looks like lightning flashes underneath the door._ _

_ _“Maybe you can get her out of there, Uncle Harry?” Rose asks. “So much fun being on your period when the Dark Lord 2.0 is having a party in the only toilet.”_ _

_ _“You’re always on your period, Rose,” Albus mutters._ _

_ _“Misogyny,” Rose says. “Nice.”_ _

_ _“Don’t be a dick, Albus,” Scorpius says. _ _

_ _“She doesn’t even live here!” Albus snaps._ _

_ _“Neither does _she_,” Scorpius shoots back, throwing an arm towards the closed door._ _

_ _Albus rises to his feet. “Do you have any idea ― I mean, no, you’re right, I’m sorry, Rose. I just―” He throws up his hands in frustration. “You bring Rose back all the time, and the _one time_ I invite someone over…”_ _

_ _Albus seems to realize he’s admitted more than he meant to, but Harry had long suspected that he hadn’t had a girlfriend._ _

_ _“My someone hasn’t tried to kill us,” Scorpius points out, Harry thinks, very reasonably._ _

_ _“Yet,” Rose mutters._ _

_ _“I said I was sorry,” Albus says._ _

_ _“And I won’t,” Delphini says, “do it again.” She looks around at everyone like things are completely normal. “For what it’s worth,” she says with a shrug. “I’m not going to hurt you.”_ _

_ _“It’s worth literally nothing,” Scorpius tells her flatly._ _

_ _Delphini leans back against the doorframe and levels a tired look at Harry. “Are you here to arrest me?” she asks._ _

_ _“Ahaha,” Harry says, panicked at the thought of Hermione killing him dead. He raises his wand and sends out a Patronus to the Ministry. “You are above my pay grade,” he tells her. “Please wait for the Minister.”_ _

_ _Delphini shrugs and slides down the wall to sit on the floor. “Washroom’s yours,” she tells Rose._ _

_ _Rose looks into the door behind Delphini. It seems to be free of lightning. “I can hold it.”_ _

_ _Scorpius looks concerned. “Can you even―”_ _

_ _“I can hold it,” Rose says firmly._ _

_ _Harry looks at Draco who looks carefully blank._ _

_ _They fall into the world’s awkwardest silence. It’s a tiny flat on the best of days._ _

_ _“Why do you think he’s going to arrest you?” Rose asks eventually._ _

_ _Delphini looks startled to be addressed. She’s interrupted before she can even open her mouth._ _

_ _“She’s in violation of her parole,” Scorpius says, looking at Delphini as he says it. “It’s public record. She can’t drink, leave the city, be out at night, rob a morgue, be within fifty meters of Craig Bowker’s parents. You know, the child she killed?”_ _

_ _Delphini gives a short, mirthless laugh._ _

_ _“Yes, _so_ funny,” Scorpius says. “But you want me to believe you’re not going to hurt me or anyone I love.”_ _

_ _“You don’t have to believe it,” Delphini tells him._ _

_ _“Then make the unbreakable vow,” Scorpius says._ _

_ _Delphini looks up sharply._ _

_ _“Scorpius,” Draco says in a low voice._ _

_ _“Can you not?” Albus snaps._ _

_ _“No, why shouldn’t I?” Scorpius says. Harry’s borderline impressed that the kid has it in him to come at her like this. “Do it,” he challenges. “Rose, will you bond us?”_ _

_ _Rose is staring, wide-eyed, apparently also startled that Scorpius has it in him. “I can do that,” she says. For all that she’s making a career in Quidditch, Harry knows Rose finished at the top of her year and is more than capable. He starts to feel nervous and he doesn’t even know why._ _

_ _“Great,” Scorpius forces out. “Come on, Riddle, what are we waiting for?”_ _

_ _Delphini rises to her feet like mist off night water. It feels a little like the lightning might return._ _

_ _“I’m not going to hurt you, Scorpius Malfoy,” she says._ _

_ _“Then make the vow,” Scorpius says._ _

_ _There’s a silence ― a long silence. Later, Harry will think that it’s a pity for her that Delphini didn’t wait just a moment longer._ _

_ _Delphini’s breathing hard, staring at Scorpius like she’d like very much to hurt him indeed. Then her gaze breaks and she looks at Albus for the smallest moment._ _

_ _“No,” she says, and the Aurors burst into the room._ _

_ _“Excuse me, this is private property,” Albus snaps._ _

_ _“I invited them,” Harry says above the noise._ _

_ _“You can’t invite them into a home that’s not yours.”_ _

_ _“But you can invite _Voldemort’s_ kid into a home that’s not yours?” Harry bellows, completely out of patience. Can’t Albus see that this has gone far enough?_ _

_ _“Come in!” Scorpius is yelling. “This is my flat and there’s a fugitive here. Please come in!”_ _

_ _“Delphini Riddle,” Hermione Granger says, entering the room like a queen, flanked by Aurors all around her. “You are under arrest under section seven, subsection four of the Wizarding Criminal Code of the United Kingdom.”_ _

_ _Singh is there again with Monroe. Singh pushes Delphini against the wall to fix handcuffs behind her back. Monroe pats down Delphini’s sides. She finds a cell phone in the improbable pocket of Delphini’s dress and hands it to another Auror who puts it in an evidence-holding charm._ _

_ _“Auntie, we were only defending ourselves,” Albus is saying to Hermione. “Someone wants her dead.”_ _

_ _“Albus, it is in your best interests as well as hers that you seek independent legal advice before talking to me about this again,” Hermione says. “I love you, but this isn’t how the law works. Come on,” she adds to the Aurors._ _

_ _Monroe and Singh walk Delphini forwards towards the threshold of the flat where due process says they can disapparate a detainee from._ _

_ _She looks at Harry as she passes him. “Happy?” Delphini says._ _

_ _Harry doesn’t answer, he just watches them shuffle into the hallway and disapparate. He can feel Albus’s glare on the back of his head._ _


	14. Terms and Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does some digging.

Harry watches Delphini through the surveillance charm they have in the holding cell. _His_ daughter. Though she looks a hell of a lot like her mother too. Emphasis on hell.

“Don’t even think about it,” a voice says.

Harry jumps. “Jesus, Hermione,” he says, turning. The door to his office was open, but she’d still come in quietly.

“I’m not letting a single man in there,” Hermione says, unapologetic. “After what happened last time.”

“I’m not single,” Harry mutters.

“Don’t,” Hermione says. She rubs her head. “Justice Lovegood’s on her way over. She’s in Bermuda.”

Harry looks back at the charm floating above his desk. Delphini is still in the dress she wore to James and Sam’s wedding, though she’s sporting Bellatrix’s post-prison hairstyle from the ‘90s. Very retro.

“Why do you think she’s still here?” Harry asks at last. “From what I’ve seen, she should be able to get out of that cell.”

If anything, Hermione looks even more tired at that question. “Honestly, Harry? You’re not going to like it.”

Harry looks up at one of his oldest friends. “Tell me,” he says.

“I think she’s trying,” Hermione tells him simply. “She’s holding down a job, which I think she might badly need, in addition to it being a condition of her parole. She’s keeping to the unprecedentedly early curfew we assigned. No sign of a wand. She didn’t drink at the wedding. I think she’s trying.”

Harry looks back at the charm. Delphini’s got her elbows resting on her knees. She shoots glares every now and then to the guards watching her and barely holds back a laugh when they jump.

“So hard,” Harry says.

Hermione watches Monroe nearly have another heart attack when Delphini abruptly raises her hand. It smooths magiclessly over her hair a moment later. “Being annoying isn’t illegal,” Hermione points out, “else you’d have been in Azkaban long ago.”

“Nah,” says Harry, grinning. “I’m friends with the Minister. She can pull some strings for me.”

Hermione whacks him on the arm. “Don’t say things like that at work,” she admonishes.

“Don’t assault employees at work,” Harry says, poking her back.

Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “Still,” she says. “I think I’m right about Delphini.”

“Then why did you arrest her at all? Why is Luna coming?”

Hermione considers the surveillance charm a moment. “Because,” she tells him. “I might not be.”

They watch Delphini in silence for a little longer. Harry gets a text from Sam that he ignores; he’s already ignored three from Albus and one from Draco since leaving Al’s apartment.

“Men aren’t still forbidden from looking at her public record,” Harry says, “right?”

“No,” Hermione says slowly. “Harry. Why?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to do anything wild.”

“Harry,” Hermione says.

“I’m going out,” he says at last.

“You’re going to kill me, you know?” Hermione says, sitting down hard in the seat Harry just vacated.

Harry smiles. “Probably not,” is all he can really offer.

Two hours later, after a brief trip to Gringotts, Harry’s checking the map on his phone again. He can barely use the thing, but he’ll be damned if he asks one of the kids for help again. The neighbourhood is old, full of money and politicians. It’s Muggle, but who cares when the house has literal turrets.

He should probably have backup or something. He shot Ramirez a text, but realistically? She was off today. But now Hermione couldn’t say he told no one.

Feeling pleased with himself to have one over Hermione, he raises his hand and knocks sharply on the door.

The old woman answers. She’s startlingly pretty ― Harry’d been expecting a witch from a fairytale. “Aurors,” she says, with a wrinkle of her nose.

“Aurors―?” Harry starts, but Ramirez is already introducing herself. Damn, she’s good.

“Alice Ramirez, this is Harry Potter,” she says. “Can we come in?”

“No,” says Euphemia. Then, “We can sit in the garden, though.”

Euphemia goes through the house. As Harry and Ramirez walk around the back, Harry fills her in.

“Euphemia Rowle,” he whispers. “She raised Riddle as a kid. Just let her relax around us.”

“I’m almost as bad as you at being the good cop,” Ramirez hisses back. “Does Granger know we’re here?”

“Since when do the Aurors need to ask the Minister for Magic permission to question people?”

Ramirez sighs. “That’s a no,” she says, more to herself than anyone.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Harry says.

“Sir,” says Ramirez as they come into view of the back of the property, which, Harry notes, is distinctly not an agreement with his previous statement.

“Tea?” Euphemia asks once they’re seated under a large white umbrella with a glass table. The patio furniture is fancier than what Harry has around his dining table.

“No thanks,” says Harry, who’d rather starve than consume anything this woman has to offer.

“What can I do for you?” Euphemia asks.

“We want to ask about Delphini Riddle,” Harry says.

“Riddle?” Euphemia asks, lines deepening between her eyes. “I raised her as a Rowle.”

“How considerate of you,” offers Ramirez, who is doing well being polite and neutral ― two things she is normally not ― since she knows almost nothing about why they’re here. Harry thinks it’s time he got to the point.

“I suppose it was,” says Euphemia. “I’m sure any mother would have done the same, however.”

“Is that what you were, her mother?” Harry asks.

“What else would I be?” Euphemia says.

“Has Delphini come to see you since being released from prison?” Harry asks.

Euphemia frowns a little more. “Is there something you want, Mr. Potter?”

“Our records note that you visited Delphini in prison a little over a year into her incarceration, and then never again,” Harry says. “That doesn’t seem very motherly.”

“And who are you to decide how _motherly_ I should be?” Euphemia asks sharply.

Ramirez gives him a _you’re fucking crazy_ look like she agrees, which Harry can sense is not entirely part of her good cop act.

He abandons that approach. “I think you were a shitty parent,” Harry says.

Euphemia looks affronted. Ramirez looks relieved.

“That’s your opinion,” Euphemia allows eventually.

“Well, and the law’s opinion,” Harry says.

“Excuse me?”

“Why wasn’t Delphini sent to school?” Harry asks.

“I thought she would face persecution being who she was. She received adequate homeschooling. Even her aunt would come by on her birthday, and I’m sure she’d attest to the child’s well-being.”

“Narcissa Malfoy,” Harry says.

“Yes.”

“We’ll be sure to ask her,” Harry promises.

“Oh, ask away,” Euphemia says. “Like I said, this is a matter of opinion. Even the laws surrounding home-schooling have a statute of limitations. Not that you’ll find any laws were broken.”

“Actually, all kinds of statutes of limitations change when there’s a child involved,” Harry says. Ramirez nods like he’s finally made a good point, which he’ll take.

“Delphini is not a child,” Euphemia says.

“But she was,” Harry says, clear on some things in this world, if not everything. “She was a child and you used her. You deprived her of a decent life. You stole from her. You betrayed her. It is not,” Harry says, abruptly furious, “that _fucking_ hard to show some kindness to an orphan.”

“Mr. Potter, if you’re not going to make a real point―”

“What happened to her parents’ money?” Harry asks.

Euphemia sits back in her chair. Ramirez, who was starting to look hopeful that Harry wasn’t going to fuck things up, drops her head, visibly kissing her career goodbye.

“So that’s why you’re here,” Euphemia says.

Harry shrugs. “I hope you didn’t think I was here to get information about Delphini.”

Euphemia clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“The Lestranges had serious wealth, and no other children,” Harry says. “And I know Voldemort got all the money from his Muggle relatives, never mind what the Gaunts might have had.”

Euphemia’s eyes went wide at Voldemort’s name and Harry was glad.

“Obviously it’s not cheap to raise a child―” Euphemia says.

“Mrs. Rowle,” Harry interrupts. “We can do this one of two ways. I don’t want your house. Keep it. Give Delphini what’s hers.”

Euphemia stares at Harry, who looks back, refusing to back down. Legally … odd? Sure. Ethically right? Well. Probably.

Finally Euphemia nods at Ramirez. “I’ll deal with you,” she says at last. “You’d best step into the sunroom. I won’t have this brute in my house.”

“Stay where I can see you at the window,” Harry reminds Ramirez.

Ramirez nods to Euphemia, then shoots Harry a filthy glare when Euphemia’s back is turned. 

_You’re the good cop_ Harry mouths at her as she follows the woman into the house.

_Unbelievable,_ she replies.

Around the same time Harry waits for Ramirez, Albus, who’s had the chance to change clothes since the wedding, is waiting in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He hates this place. Mum always pointed out where Dad fought Voldemort and Bellatrix, like he should take note and _care_. He’s glad Dad lived, obviously, glad he fought fascism and won. He’s confused as to why Dad became a cop to uphold the status quo after that, though. Aunt Fleur made a great Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but she was talking about retiring, maybe moving back to France, and Dad still didn’t seem to be interested. Not that Albus liked Hogwarts much either. There’s a reason he works in the Muggle world.

His phone vibrates again. He’s a little bit thankful that Sam wants to text from the airport. Albus would be bored stupid otherwise.

_Seriously tell her thank you_

_I will if I ever see her_

_No, have her call me  
If she wants  
What do you think?_

_I’ll ask her. How’s Bali?_

_Still in Frankfurt. 7 hour layover. J is asleep._

_How late did the party go?_

_Lol late. How late did your party go? I heard you guys left early ;)_

_Lol enjoy Frankfurt_

He puts his phone away, thankful that there are no reporters here on a weekend. There’s almost no one here on a weekend. They can float the idea that Delphini is dead a little while longer. Albus tries to think of who might want her dead, and comes up with a list of all of wizarding Britain. Dad’s near the top of that list.

The sharp sounds of footsteps echo around the atrium. Auntie looks tired.

“Come on,” Hermione says. Albus stands.

She takes him to the Auror’s floor and passed the first checkpoint. It’s busier in here, but not by much.

“Is she being charged?” Albus asks, finally alone.

“No,” Hermione tells him. “Any parole violations were done to protect her own life. I can’t encourage stealing corpses,” she adds, giving him a stern look which confuses him until he remembers he said he was in on it, “but I understand why she wanted to make it look like she’d died.”

“What’s being done to protect her?” Albus asks.

“I daresay she can protect herself,” Hermione tells him. “But we’re looking for whoever keeps doing this. Honestly, if we charged her, it would be public record, and I agree that it’s best to make it look like she’s dead.”

“Is Rose going to say anything to the media?”

“Is Scorpius? He seems to be less than fond of her.”

Albus looks at the ceiling. He’s considered Scorpius, but he can’t make himself believe his best friend would try to kill someone.

“I already told Sam and James,” Albus says at last. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Hermione looks surprised. “Then you’re a risk to her, too.”

Albus swears as Delphini comes into view. She looks disheveled and annoyed, but it doesn’t look like she’s been beat or anything. After she was assaulted by Aurors, Albus wouldn’t put anything past them.

“You’re free to go?” Albus asks her.

Delphini nods. “They added six months to my parole.”

“Aunt Hermione!” Albus says.

Hermione shoots him a terrible glare. “Do not ask for special favours,” she snaps. “Like the whole department isn’t watching her case under a microscope.”

“It was only six months to begin with,” Delphini offers with a shrug.

“Do you want to come back to my place? You can stay a while,” Albus offers.

“Your aunt has also sent an owl offering you a place to stay,” Hermione says carefully. “You have until 6 pm to owl me with a new address.”

“Narcissa Malfoy?” Albus asks, startled.

“It wouldn’t be her,” Delphini says quietly. “It was Andromeda Tonks.”

“Yes,” Hermione says.

Albus doesn’t want to push ― absolutely refuses to push ― but he’s had thoughts of Delphini laid out on his sheets, waking up to her rare and guarded smiles. _And she wants me too,_ he thinks, thrilled. A lot has happened since the night before, but they definitely had sex. Against a wall. He tries to take his mind somewhere else in the presence of his aunt.

And his dad.

“Harry, Alice?” Hermione asks, as twin cracks of apparation split the awkward silence.

“Here,” Ramirez says, thrusting a folder full of papers at Delphini, who doesn’t open it.

“Am I free to leave?” Delphini asks Hermione.

“Yes.”

“No, please. Wait,” says Harry, startling everyone. “I mean ― yes, you’re free to leave if you want, but just―”

“It’s properties your parents owned,” says Ramirez, saving Harry from himself.

“And the rights to at least one vault at Gringotts, right?” Harry says, turning to Ramirez. “I haven’t looked inside,” he adds, nodding to the folder.

“I saw two Gringotts account, and an account in the wizarding bank in France,” Ramirez confirms. A bunch of properties, but I didn’t see if they were in London or not. You can go to the whole Greater London Area, right?”

Delphini doesn’t answer. She’s staring at the folder in her hands. “My parents?” she asks eventually.

Harry nods. “They should be yours,” he says. “Legally.”

Delphini looks at him. Albus gets the sense she can’t see anyone else. “You went to see Euphemia,” she says.

“Yeah,” says Harry. “She seems like an asshole.”

Delphini makes a sound that’s almost a laugh.

“I was raised by some terrible people,” Harry says gently. “It’s not fun.”

Delphini looks at him, really looks at him, Albus thinks with a pang of something. Jealousy? That Dad could get to Delphini without even trying. Harry Potter and the How the Sun Shines on Him.

“Thank you,” Delphini says quietly.

Harry smiles. They look at each other for a moment more. Then, without a single glance back at Albus, Delphini vanishes.

And Albus? Just goes home.


	15. Friends, Enemies, Lovers

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” Albus says, sitting in the Minister for Magic’s office. Auntie and Luna Lovegood sit in front of him. It’s been a week since he and Delphini had sex ― a week since he’s heard from her.

“We’re trying to build a profile about who Ms. Riddle is now that she’s been released from prison,” Luna says. “The two of you seem to be friendly, if the papers are to be believed.”

Albus looks between the judge and his aunt, the latter of whom gives him a pleading look.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” he says.

Luna’s quill makes a sharp sound over the parchment. Albus abruptly hates it. It sounds like Hogwarts.

“How would you describe her?” Luna asks.

“Nice, I guess,” Albus says, which is such a lie. Nice. “I mean ― she’s not rude. She’s quiet-ish. Doesn’t like people touching her.”

“Have you touched her?” Luna asks, barely glancing up from her notes. Hermione’s looking though, which is horrifying.

“Erm,” says Albus.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Hermione says quickly, which is absurdly relieving.

“You two danced at James Potter and Samantha Cheung’s wedding,” Luna continues. “It was in the papers. Are you dating?”

“―No,” Albus says and curses himself. It sounds like a question so much so that Luna looks up at him.

“Remember that you don’t have to answer that either, but any information you can give us might help her parole. Her profile will be reviewed by the committee members at the end of her parole to see if she is fit to rejoin society. You’re only helping her by doing this,” Luna tells him.

Though Albus isn’t sure how much he believes him. He remembers one of his Muggle coworkers telling him how he never talks to cops. He volunteers with London’s Black Lives Matters movement, and he’s been “detained” multiple times. They’ll twist anything, Francis had said. Just don’t say a word.

Not that Luna’s a cop. In fact, Francis might be pleased that he had the sense to only talk in front of a judge.

Right.

“We’re not dating,” Albus says. “We’re friends, kind of. She’s only been released, what? A little over two months? We’ve grabbed coffee, dinner, we went to the mall once, and to Jamie’s wedding.” Francis actually shakes his head in Albus’s mind’s eye. Yeah, Francis, I fucking know.

Luna keeps writing. “Has she said anything about wanting to go back in time again?”

“No,” Albus says.

“What has she said about her parents?”

“Nothing I can recall,” Albus says.

“What about Hogwarts?”

“What _about_ Hogwarts?”

Luna blinks up through her round spectacles. “What is the nature of her interest in Hogwarts?”

“Aside from the books?” Albus asks.

“What books?” Hermione puts in.

Shit. He’s never going to be able to look Francis in the eye again.

“I mean ― she was reading some books about the wizarding world,” Albus says casually. “Your book, Auntie, and _Hogwarts, a History_, popular stuff like that. She seemed to be catching up on what she’d missed when she was in Azkaban.”

“_Hogwarts, a History_ is hardly about recent events,” Luna points out.

Albus forces himself to stay calm. “I guess not,” he says. “She seems to like reading. I saw her reading some fiction, too. She’s never said much about Hogwarts.”

“Much, or anything?” Luna asks.

“Nothing specific I can recall,” Albus says. “Why are you asking about Hogwarts?”

Hermione and Luna exchange a look. Albus’s heart nearly stops.

“There have been a few sightings of her in Scotland since she was released,” Hermione says. “I’m surprised your dad hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Dad always keeps work confidential,” Albus lies. “What do you mean sightings?”

“Twice,” Hermione says, politely overlooking the Harry Potter lie. “Someone has reported seeing her in Hogsmeade near the castle. Or seeing someone who looked like her. It was reported to the ministry. We can’t prove it was her, although obviously it would be in violation of her parole conditions.”

“She’s always followed them from what I’ve seen,” Albus says, this time truthfully, except as he says it, his horrible mind starts putting a few things together.

Like with, yes, all right, Delphini’s interest in Hogwarts, with her obsession with her research. The research she was desperate to go save the night of the fire, being furious when she had to save Albus instead. She would have lost it all that night, Albus realizes. But why would it matter? She can easily retrieve all those books again ― Albus wasn’t lying when he said they were all popular enough. 

She is more powerful than anyone Albus has ever met, the war heroes in the room with him included. Delphini could easily be in Scotland without anyone knowing.

Auntie and Luna are speaking again, and Albus is barely listening. He’s feeling particular about Uncle Dudley recognizing Delphini. And while no one should ever be expected to make an Unbreakable Vow, there’s still the fact that she didn’t do it with Scorpius. Not that that matters. Not that she’s required to. And there’s the fact that she’s spending so much time with Albus in the first place. She agreed pretty quickly to go to the damn wedding, didn’t she? 

“Has she consumed any alcohol that you’ve witnessed?” Luna asks.

“No.”

“Mind-altering substances, spells, or potions?”

“No.”

“Has she left the country or applied for citizenship anywhere else?”

“No.”

Finally Albus leaves feeling numb. The past week has been shit enough already not hearing from Delphini. He’s kicking himself for saying anything at all to Luna and Hermione. He did know better. And in spite of that, he’s still wondering if he should just tell them everything and let the law make up its own mind in regards to Delphini fucking Riddle. God. It had to be her, didn’t it.

He passes Dad on the way to the lifts. They don’t speak.

~*~

Harry thumbs a tiny drop of tea off the gold-embossed china teacup and sets it neatly down in its saucer.

“Go fuck yourself,” he says politely.

Lucius Malfoy turns an unflattering shade of red ― good, Harry thinks ― and puts the teapot back down on the table.

“Jesus,” Draco says under his breath.

Brunch with the Malfoys is going really well.

“My point exactly,” Narcissa says, not missing a beat.

“Sorry, what?” Harry asks, having missed several upon being offered tea by a Death Eater.

“You asked why I no longer speak to my niece,” Narcissa informs him calmly. “Some things are unforgivable.” She shrugs delicately and takes and even delicate-er sip of tea. Harry is only mildly intimidated.

The sun shines brightly into the conservatory at the back of the manor. Apparently the whole place had been redone since the war to allow for natural light and hanging vines and teacups that caused an irrational spike in Harry’s blood pressure. He doesn’t like that the time-turner is hidden here. It seems inauspicious.

“I’m having coffee with her next week,” Draco says, taking a sip of his own tea.

“What?” asks Harry, dismayed. Lucius seems to share the sentiment, though Narcissa’s face refuses to emote.

“She’s family,” Draco says, a little defensive.

“She almost killed Scorpius,” Lucius snaps.

Narcissa’s lips purse microscopically ― to display dissatisfaction, Harry assumes.

“Listen, if all of us can sit down together, surely it’s worth at least listening to what she has to say,” Draco says. “I know I appreciated the second chance when given one.”

Harry clenches and unclenches his jaw. He can live in a world in which Draco Malfoy is the wisest person in the room. He entangles their fingers together for the joy of it, not even a little bit because it’s upsetting Lucius Malfoy. _Not even a little bit._

Draco smiles at him.

“Nevertheless, please be careful, darling,” Narcissa says. “Delphini was not raised well. Are you going with him, Harry?”

Harry snorts. “Not likely,” he says, tearing his eyes away from Draco’s smile. But he looks back at Draco like a leaf turning towards the sun. “If you want to reconnect with your cousin, I think that’s great. I definitely agree with your mother that you should take precautions, but at the very least, you don’t seem to be her immediate focus. I don’t think I should come with you, but I can recommend other Aurors if you want an escort. I don’t think Delphini feels comfortable around me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Lucius murmurs into his tea.

“I’ll be fine,” Draco says, fighting a grin. “Albus has been around her plenty of times alone, and we’re going to a café.”

The sun dims a little bit. Harry winces.

“I can’t imagine that thrills you,” Narcissa comments.

Harry levels a look at her. Narcissa’s comment about Delphini not being _raised well_ doesn’t sit right with him. 

“Do I like my son spending time with someone who tried to kill him and Scorpius?” Harry says. “Someone who killed a child and tried to bring back Voldemort?” Every teacup in the room trembles for a moment. “Of course not. But it’s only for those reasons.”

“That’s it?” Draco asks wryly.

Harry steals a look at Draco and decides he too can grow the fuck up. “It’s not because of who her parents are,” says Harry, deciding he means it. “Delphini was born human like the rest of us. She didn’t have to be this way.”

Narcissa, bless her, takes the hint. “I will not apologize for stepping back from her upbringing,” Narcissa tells him. “I saw her on her birthday, encouraged her interests in letters. But my family’s reputation had barely escaped that war, and I wanted a better life for my son. I do not regret publicly distancing myself from Bellatrix and … and her lover.”

Even Lucius makes a face at that, but Narcissa pays them all no attention.

“Look at us now,” Narcissa says. “Draco and Scorpius are happy, well-respected in the wizarding world. Scorpius might even marry the Minister’s daughter one day. I could not imagine a more upstanding partnership,” she says, eyes dropping briefly to Harry and Draco’s linked hands.

Harry rolls his eyes.

“I have no regrets,” Narcissa continues. “Surely as a parent you understand,” she adds, and the worst part is that Harry _does_ understand. Until five minutes ago, he would have hated Delphini for her existence alone. Now he can hate her for all sorts of things, but that’s not the point. Lucius and Draco both faced trial after the war. A jury might not have loved the newest addition to their household. Might have seen love for Voldemort’s child as love for the man. So many people had lost loved ones, and Voldemort wasn’t around to be punished. Delphini never had a chance, Harry thinks.

“Whatever,” Harry says, mature enough not to argue the point. He congratulates himself on personal growth.

“At least we know my parents are still the best ones to keep the time-turner away from her,” Draco says as they walk down the long walkway towards the main road after brunch.

“I guess,” Harry concedes. “Though realistically all of wizarding Britain wants to keep it away from her.”

“But that’s because they hate _Voldemort_,” Draco says, barely flinching on the word. “My parents hate Delphini personally for what she did. They’d give Scorpius the moon if he asked.”

“I seem to recall a kid I went to school with whose parents spoiled him pretty well, too,” Harry says.

Draco shoots him a smirk. “Maybe,” he says. “But it’s not like I was flooded with gifts. I pretty much always opened them when I knew _you_ were looking.”

“So sweet,” Harry tells him.

Draco turns when they reach the gate, a fond smile on his face. “Sweet like you agreeing to have lunch with people you hate?”

“I like your mum okay,” Harry says, and it’s almost not a lie. He’s staring at Draco’s lips, a little bit caught up in Draco’s delighted mood. Harry touches his thumb to Draco’s bottom lip and watches as his breath catches.

“It was still sweet,” Draco tells him, swaying closer.

Their lips meet right there, on the grounds that the Snatchers hauled Harry and his friends across during the war. Where Draco lied for them, and Harry stole the wand that won him the war. It seems so long ago. It was.

~*~

Albus is ready to collapse into bed by the time he gets home. He went for a punishingly long run, which utterly failed to take his mind off things. Exercise is supposed to release serotonin, or something, Rose told him once. At least the shower was a good excuse to wank ― trying not to think about Delphini as he did, of course.

It’s been almost two weeks since he’s seen her ― two weeks since the wedding, since they had sex, since she saved his life again. Two weeks since she disapparated without sparing him a glance in the ministry hallway. He misses her so much he aches with it.

He’s still toweling his hair when he walks into his bedroom ― Scorpius is out late ― and stops dead.

Delphini stands in the middle of the room.

The towel falls to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Albus asks, voice rising in panic.

“I’m―”

“Get out!” Albus nearly shouts. “They’re going to notice you’re gone.”

Delphini opens and closes her mouth. “I’m not gone,” she says finally.

“What?”

Delphini walks forward. Albus remembers he’s wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. She holds out he hand. “I’m not gone,” she repeats.

Albus looks at her, looks at her hand, everything wavers a bit. Slowly, he reaches out and touches her outstretched hand. Or tries to. 

“See?” she says, waving her hand back and forth through his chest. “Not gone.”

“Shit,” Albus says, relieved that she’s not breaking curfew, but acutely disappointed that they can’t touch.

He heaves a breath and steps back to pick up his towel. “So what are you doing here?” he asks, hanging the towel on the back of the door like he entertains spectres in his bedroom all the time.

Delphini doesn’t answer because of course she doesn’t.

“I think I have a date with Melanie,” Delphini says.

“Excuse me, who?” Albus asks, blankly.

Delphini gives him a weird look. “Sam’s bridesmaid? We were talking the whole night with her.”

“Oh,” Albus says, remembering. “Not the whole night, if I remember correctly.”

Delphini’s teeth bare in a grin just a moment, then she’s talking again. “I’m supposed to meet her and Alyssa on the weekend. They want to go to some rock-climbing gym. Have you ever tried this?”

“Me and Scorpius did once,” Albus says, remembering the disaster of a day. They were making dumb jokes to each other when the instructor explained the ropes, and Scorpius had ended up dangling by his ankle twenty feet in the air until Albus had to use magic to get him down. They’d had to call Dad to bring in the obliviators. “It’s all right if you listen to the people who work there.”

A bit of a silence falls. Albus tries to think of a reason not to get dressed, but he’s find of avoiding looking at her, so rummaging in his drawers for a shirt seems like the thing to do.

“Do you want to come over?” Delphini asks quietly.

Albus stills. He wishes he had even an ounce of self-control. “Where are you?” he asks, turning.

Delphini nods to the spoon Albus hadn’t noticed sitting on his bedside table. “It’s a portkey,” she says.

“For when?”

“For now.”

Albus watches her a moment longer, then turns back around to finish getting dressed. He might be willing to run after her whenever she wants, but he’s not going to leave the house half-naked, at the very least. By the time he turns back around, Delphini has vanished. With a heavy sigh, he picks up the portkey.

The entrance hall is not as big as Scorpius’s grandparents’, but it’s a near thing. It’s dark, and empty. Delphini is no where in sight, but there’s the flicker of a fireplace from the room to his right.

He finds her standing by the fire, looking outrageously beautiful in yoga leggings and a hoodie.

She smiles when she sees him, which is so little to go on, but it gives him courage nonetheless. As Albus nears her, he holds out his hand in offering. Delphini stares a moment, but slowly raises her hand to his. They touch in the middle this time.

“Better,” Albus says softly.

Delphini releases a small puff of laughter. “Yeah,” she agrees, watching their fingers twine.

Albus lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the tips of her fingers. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, nodding to the fire, noting her hoodie. It’s a cool evening for June.

“A little,” Delphini whispers back, watching him closely.

Albus glances briefly around the room. There’s a wide sofa near the fire that will absolutely work. He raises his wand and uses Gran’s spell for conjuring a thick wool blanket.

“Come ‘ere,” Albus says.

He’s trying to figure out how to suggest they both get under the blanket when Delphini solves the problem for him. She lies down and pulls him gently after her. Albus takes a moment to throw the blanket over both of them before settling down to look at Delphini.

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks him.

“_Please_,” he breathes as they fall together.

They press together slowly and it’s everything. Albus hears only the fire crackling in the quiet room, and Delphini’s breathing. He presses his hand against her back, pulling her against him. Delphini slides her tongue deep into his mouth and he groans with arousal.

She breaks off with a smile. “Something you want?” she asks.

“God, yes,” he says, cupping the side of her face and leaning to kiss her again.

Delphini kisses back, hungrier now, and slides a leg over him. She throws off the blanket as she climbs on top of him, still leaning down to maintain the kiss.

“Wait, no,” she says, and brings the blanket back up around her shoulders.

Albus laughs, leans up to kiss her again. Her lips meet his, and it’s so, so good. Her hair is down for once, and Albus tangles his fingers in it. “You feel so good,” he says into her mouth. Her hands are all over him and it’s hard to think.

She responds by grinding down a little, and Albus’s mind floods with pleasure. “Yeah, God,” he says.

“Do you want to?” Delphini breathes.

“I thought it was obvious.”

Delphini wrinkles her nose as if remembering the taste of something unpleasant. “Okay, but your aunt gave me a pamphlet about consent, and in it―”

Albus groans. “Please do not,” he says. “I mean, consent, yeah, important, but you have to stop mentioning my family when we’re about to have sex. Delphi, please.”

Delphini grins, maybe at making him squirm, maybe a little at the nickname. Albus hopes it’s both, because he’s flying with this feeling. He wants so much more.

“You know traditionally one removes clothing before this next part,” Albus says. “Will that be too much? I know you like the blanket.” He rubs his hands up and down her arms.

“I do like the blanket,” she confirms with a smile. “Hang on,” she says, and pauses, looks up for a moment. It takes another moment for Albus to realize she’s naked from the waist down.

“I think that’s the most effort I’ve seen you make to do magic,” he remarks, moving his hands down to her bare hips. His thumbs brush the crease where her legs meet her hips.

She closes her eyes at his touch, which has an utterly intoxicating effect on Albus. 

“I’m not allowed to be a little distracted?” she asks, voice shaking.

Albus pulls her up, shifting down on the sofa as he does. “Come up here,” he suggests. “Let me distract you.”

She goes willingly. Moans as he leans up, tasting her sex again. “Fuck, Albus,” she whispers.

Albus is fucking gone. He could stay here forever under her, licking up to her clit, making her shake and moan the way she’s doing above him. Her harsh breathing makes his blood sing. She’s coming apart because of him.

“Touch yourself,” she breathes, voice gone high. Albus hadn’t even realized he had one hand pressed to the front of his joggers, but anything she says with her voice like that is a great fucking idea. He’s wrapping his fingers around himself as his other hand takes over for a moment.

“You look fucking amazing,” Albus tells her. His thumb moves circles over her clit, quick but light.

Delphini’s wide eyes are glassy as she stares down at him. Her lips are parted, she looks utterly wrecked. “You’re going to make me come like this,” she says, half moaning her way through the words.

A quick kiss pressed to the inside of her thigh and then he’s grinning up at her. “Good,” he says, and uses his mouth once more.

“Ohh,” says Delphini, high and desperate. Albus can feel her trembling all around him, body strung tight as she approaches her peak.

Albus is almost there himself.

“Fuck, fuck,” Delphini pants, high and breathy. Then she comes. One shuddering wave after the next. 

Albus can’t help the noise that escapes from him as she comes. He’s achingly close, but he yanks his hand back up to her hips, wanting to feel all of her, running a hand up under her clothes to her back.

Delphini’s still breathing a little hard when she shifts her way back down his body so they’re lined up once more.

“Hi,” Albus says when they’re face to face. He runs his fingers through her hair, delighted at being allowed to touch, at getting this.

“Hi,” Delphini returns with a grin. “You’re too fucking good at that.”

Albus laughs, feeling actually drunk. It’s embarrassing how happy he is. “Are you still cold?” he asks instead of saying any of the things in his brain that should absolutely not come out of his mouth.

“No,” she says. 

Albus slides his hands under the hoodie, going slow, asking with a look. She has a trace of a smile when she nods, lifting her arms and letting him do it. He leaves whatever’s under it alone, because he’s honestly not sure what she agreed to, but he pulls off her hoodie, leaving her in a black tank top. Her black hair spills over her shoulders in messy pieces with jagged ends. Albus threads his fingers through it, watching as she smiles for real.

He pushes himself into a sitting position, keeping one arm wrapped around the woman in his lap. They kiss like that, Albus breathing her in. He lets his hand wander lower, gripping her closely while also feeling the bare skin at her hip, reminding him that she’s still half naked, and he’s still completely hard.

While he practically burns under the taste of her mouth, he pulls away to press a kiss to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says instead of all the other things.

She doesn’t reply, but her hands grip his shoulders in answer, keeping him close while his mouth explores her neck. She’s clearly not wearing a bra, and Albus desperately wants to know if she likes being touched there.

“What do you want?” Delphini asks before Albus has a chance to put his thoughts into words.

“All of you,” he says, which is as close to the truth as he’s going to give tonight. “Can I touch your breasts? Do you like that?”

He pulls back only far enough to watch her nod. His hands are moving up before she’s even stopped the motion. Watching her, he slides his hands up her sides under her shirt and brushes both of her nipples with his thumbs.

Her teeth clench around a hiss. 

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.

Without taking his eyes off her, he rolls her nipples in his fingers, feeling them pucker. She’s shaking a little again. Albus places another kiss on her collar bone. “Could you come again?” he asks into her skin.

“Oh my God,” she replies, which he’ll take.

“I want you to come again,” he tells her, trailing kisses across to her shoulder.

“You can―” Delphini says, “harder.”

Albus tugs gently on her nipples and she moans.

“Lie back,” he says, not sure where this confidence is coming from ― if it’s her magic or something else. He guides her down so she’s lying on the sofa with him half on top of her.

With the arm that’s propping him up, he pulls up her shirt, revealing breasts that he would literally die for. “Beautiful,” he tells her, catching her trembling smile. His other hand snakes back between her legs, feeling the hair that’s still wet from his mouth. He presses his fingers on her clit and starts to move.

“Albus,” she breathes, “fuck, that’s― fuck.” Her back arches up as he touches her chest again, pushing her breasts into his hand. He tugs on one nipple the way she likes, and, Merlin, she’s louder this time. Albus loves it. She’s all but vibrating when she comes again.

He kisses her through her orgasm, relishing the feel of her under him.

“Can I fuck you?” Albus asks.

“God, yes,” Delphini says. She pulls a condom out of no where.

Albus wastes no time getting it on, then he’s settling between her legs. Delphini guides him to her entrance, and then he’s sinking into her cunt, and she’s ― God, she’s so wet.

“Fuck, Albus,” she says, “do it hard.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. He gets his arm under her, wraps it around her lower back, and drives into her. He can feel his orgasm barreling towards him, but he can’t slow down. Delphini’s shaking, meeting his mouth in a brief shaking kiss. Her hand pressing between them to get at her clit suggests she could come again, and Albus groans with the thought of it. He loves this, loves _her,_ he does, and despite the pleasure flooding every nerve, he’s suddenly afraid of this all being taken away.

“Fuck, I’m going to―” he says, and he does. His orgasm goes on forever, shooting into her again and again. He presses their mouths together, needs her so much.

He collapses on the sofa next to her, comfortable despite the narrow fit. Delphini touches herself a second longer, and shakes into a weaker final orgasm.

She vanishes the condom when she comes down.

Albus doesn’t want to move, and with the way Delphini has her fingers moving in slow circles on his hip, he doesn’t think she wants him to move either. There’s just room enough for them to both sleep here.

“You can’t go to Hogwarts,” he says.

Delphini’s eyes snap open. She stares at him, uncomprehending.

Albus rolls on his side so they’re both facing each other. “Please,” he says, taking her hand and pressing a kiss there. “They suspect you’re breaking your parole. You have to be more careful.”

Realization forms in her eyes, and there’s a sudden look of fury before she’s gone, vanished from next to him. Albus shoots up, and sees her standing fully dressed by the fire again.

“You can’t go to _Hogwarts_?” she yells, then turns on the spot and utterly shrieks into the fireplace.

Alarmed, Albus leaps to his feet, suddenly glad he’s still dressed.

A blast of thunder shakes the house.

“Delphini, stop,” he says.

“_Who_ are _you_ to tell me what to do?” she yells over the storm, but she’s not looking at him, still raging with her back to him.

After running into a house full of Fiendfyre for her, Albus thinks he’d probably die for her. That does not mean, however, that he wants to die. He picks up his want to disapparate, but Delphini waves a hand, and it goes flying from his grip.

“You can’t keep me from leaving,” Albus snaps.

Delphini whirls on him, glancing to his wand on the floor, then back at him. “I’m not,” she says, then the wind is gone and Albus is back in his own bedroom. His wand follows him a second later, dropping to the floor.

“Why do I fucking bother,” he mutters.


	16. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphini offers an explanation. Albus stays the night.

The line for the chip truck near Albus’s office is exceptionally long, even for noon on a Thursday. Luckily Francis has a new story about his racist father-in-law-to-be, and shit-talking him seems as good a way to pass the time as any.

“He said that in front of Tracy?” Albus asks.

“Yeah, so of course she pulls him into the kitchen and tears him a new one,” Francis continues, “but now I’m sitting there with her mom and aunts listening to the show.”

“Can’t you just not invite him to the wedding? Tracy doesn’t seem to like him either,” Albus says. The line hasn’t moved at all.

“Apparently having cancer means you get to come to the wedding,” Francis says with a shrug. “It’s still a year away.”

“Plenty of time to die,” Albus assures him.

They’re still laughing when Delphini appears beside them. Albus stops laughing.

No one’s looking around in shock, so she must have approached the Muggle way. She’s wearing a t-shirt that clings to her ― in ways Albus does _not_ notice ― and baggy trousers in a strange material. They’ve got a pattern of white polka dots on a light teal background, which is a little weird, even for how casually she dresses. Her hair in back in its usual high ponytail. Albus’s fingers itch at the memory of tangling in her long locks while he kissed her last night.

“Hi,” Delphini says.

“Hi,” Albus says neutrally. “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” she says without preamble. “I’m sorry for last night.”

The look in her eyes is just as closed off as ever. She doesn’t look sorry. But still. She’s here, saying the words. She’s here.

“Ohhh,” says Francis, “is this her?”

Albus tears his eyes away from Delphini to level a look at Francis. For a smart guy, he is a magnificent idiot. Francis’s face changes immediately into regret as he realizes what he said.

“Not that he talks about you,” Francis continues, “he doesn’t talk about anyone.” Albus closes his eyes in resignation. “In _fact,_” Francis continues, apparently having decided to keep talking after all, “he never talks about himself. We all have bets in the office if he’s really a secret agent. Is it true?”

Delphini bites her bottom lip and for a moment it looks like she’s fighting a smile. “I could tell you,” she says, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

Francis throws his head back and laughs. “Proof enough.”

“For fuck’s―” Albus says. “You know I have friends and family. They’re not just a cover.”

“Yeah, _except_ you accidentally hinted that your aunt Hermione is high up in the government, except there’s no one in parliament with that name. Not in municipal governments either. _And_ you won’t show us pictures from your brother’s wedding that supposedly happened recently. If you even have a brother.”

Albus and Delphini lock eyes, both clearly remembering the children floating around the dance floor.

“Wait, _us_? Who else is following me so closely?” Albus demands.

Francis counts off his fingers. “Akhir, Jen, Megan―”

“The _regional manager_?”

“Oh, yeah, she loves it.”

“Fuck.”

“Brother’s real,” Delphini says. They both turn to her. “I’ve met Aunt Hermione,” she says with a slight sneer. “Obviously that’s a family nickname.”

“Huh,” Francis says, folding his arms. “Still.”

“His dad’s a cop,” Delphini adds thoughtfully.

Albus groans. He can see Francis’s outraged stare out of the corner of his eye.

“Here,” Albus says, pushing five quid into Francis’s hand, “get me a medium? Can we not stand exactly right here?” he adds to Delphini, striding away on the pavement before she or Francis get the opportunity to say anything else at all to each other.

Delphini’s there when he turns around a safe distance away, thank God. He wouldn’t know what to do if she hadn’t followed him.

They stare at each other a moment in silence. London passes all around them.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” Delphini says quietly. It’s so quiet Albus almost doesn’t hear.

A puff of derision escapes his mouth. “I’d gathered that, yeah,” he says. His mind is taking a moment to catch up ― not to her words, but to what she’s saying. This is possibly the first time she’s shared anything at all with him like this.

“But you weren’t,” Delphini says. It’s not a question. “You were trying to help me.”

“Catch me doing that again,” he says, but there’s no heat in it. Her earlier trace of a smile grows a little. Albus wants to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

Albus shoves his hands in his pocket to remind himself not to reach out like he so badly wants to. He has to stop following this woman off cliffs.

Delphini steps closer, watching Albus’s face carefully. She must like the show of his self-respect crumbling because she steps a little closer still.

“Come over tonight?” she asks. They’re still not touching each other. 

Albus closes his eyes. “You’re outrageous,” he says.

“You’re into that.”

His eyes fly open at her gall. Delphini is grinning proper now. Albus can’t help smile back.

“Very,” he says, and kisses her.

Delphini’s hands come up to his hips and he feels her smile into the kiss. _I make you happy,_ Albus has time to think wildly before he pulls away, smiling himself. 

“What time?”

“Seven? I’ll send another portkey.” 

Albus can’t help himself and leans forward for another kiss. Delphini doesn’t hesitate in meeting him, hasn’t even let go of his hips. He wants to take her home right now, consequences be damned. The way Delphini’s breaths have sped up suggests she might agree.

“Okay,” Delphini says, leaning back, still smiling. Her eyes flick down to Albus’s lips again, but she steps back. “Okay,” she says again, seeming to mean it this time. “See you.”

Albus nods, grins, watches her walk off towards the underground station. She doesn’t look back like he’s hoping she does, but this whole thing was still so much more than he expected.

He’s still grinning like an idiot when he meets Francis in line. “Shit,” says Albus, remembering how he offered to go with Francis to a meeting about defunding the police. “Sorry.”

“Sorry,” Francis says at the same time.

They both grin. “Listen ― I don’t really get on with my dad half the time. I wasn’t taking the piss when we did the HR stuff about the police last fall,” Albus tells him.

“Never mind that, tell me everything. What was she apologizing for?”

_Freaking out at me when I told her hanging around a magical school where she killed a kid would violate her parole._

After a brief stare into the void, Albus settles on, “I’m not sure she’s making some good decisions. She didn’t like me saying that and kind of freaked out at me.”

Francis nods. “Be careful, though,” he warns. “People have to realize for themselves when they need to stop self-destructive behaviour.”

Francis probably thinks she’s an alcoholic. Albus decides Francis and Delphini should probably never be around each other ever again.

“Yeah,” Albus says. He’s looking for a change in conversation when Francis startles him worse than Delphini showing up out of no where.

“So what is she, a doctor?”

“Hmm?” Albus asks.

“She was wearing scrubs,” Francis points out.

“No, she’s not―” Albus starts, without thinking. Then he falls silent. Why the fuck is Delphini wearing scrubs? The joy at seeing her earlier is replaced by that uneasiness he feels whenever he thinks about this whole situation too closely. 

Which is why he doesn’t think about it too closely.

“She’s training to be, though,” Albus says.

Francis nods, impressed. “Hot _and_ smart,” he says. “What’s she doing with you?”

Albus thinks of some of the things she’s done with him. Instead of voicing them, he nudges Francis. “Look, the line’s moving.” They both dutifully take that single step forward. In the end, they make it back to the office on time.

“Must have been magic,” Francis suggests.

~*~

Albus lands in Delphini’s entrance hall again that evening, and it’s better lit this time. The sun’s still high in the sky, and it shines through a skylight in the roof, illuminating a delicately carved banister that runs around the second floor. 

“Hey,” Delphini says softly, appearing at Albus’s side.

Dropping the old calculator portkey, he leans in to kiss her, delighted when she meets him halfway, pressing their lips together.

“Where are we?” Albus asks when they pull apart.

“This is one of the properties my parents owed,” Delphini says. “It’s nice, right?”

“Yeah,” Albus agrees, though he’s uneasy at the mention of her _parents_. “Can you not get to it without a portkey?”

Delphini looks a little thoughtful. “You can,” Delphini says. She hesitates before adding, “I just want to make sure I know who is coming in and out.”

For a moment, Albus doesn’t understand. “Because someone’s trying to kill you,” he says.

Delphini nods, watching him carefully.

“And you think it’s me.”

“No,” Delphini says quickly. “I don’t. I swear I don’t, Albus.”

Albus’s head is swimming. She thinks he would hurt her. She thinks―

“I’d be stupid not to consider the possibility,” she’s saying. “There are so many people who hate me, who want me _dead_.”

“You don’t trust me,” Albus says numbly.

Delphini bites her lip, glances at the ground. 

“I ran into Fiendfyre for you and you don’t trust me,” Albus says.

“You don’t trust me,” she points out.

Albus exhales in a rush and takes a step back from her. He needs not to be so ruled by the effect she has on him.

“It’s just ― with what happened back then,” she says. “You have a reason to hate me.”

“You mean when you nearly got me lost in time and forced my family to helplessly watch the murders of my grandparents. When you killed a kid at my school.”

Delphini flinches. “Yes,” she says.

Albus closes his eyes at the memory. Of James’s screams, of Lily’s begging. “Fuck,” he says.

Delphini is quiet, watching him.

Albus opens his eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he tells her. “But I don’t trust you.”

Delphini nods. If Albus didn’t know better, he’d say she looks hurt, which is ridiculous for someone who just said she thought Albus might be trying to kill her.

“I want to,” Albus breathes without meaning to.

Her eyes snap up to his. Albus is in front of her again. She reaches for him and it’s everything.

“Tell me I can trust you,” he says. His hands find their way into her hair, and he’s bringing their foreheads together, closing his eyes at her touch.

“You can trust me,” Delphini whispers.

“God, Delphini” Albus says, and they’re kissing. She presses her body into his and he groans into her mouth, which opens so beautifully for him. “Can I touch you?” he asks, begs.

“Yeah,” she says, high and breathy. Albus nearly dies at the sound. He’s so fucking into her it’s embarrassing.

“You don’t have a bedroom in this house, do you?” he asks, kissing her neck, and the next thing he knows, they’re in another room, sunbeams slanting onto the walls, across the huge bed. “Brilliant,” he says, and backs her into it.

Delphini sits when her knees hit the bed. Albus tries to follow her down, but she stops him with a flat hand on his stomach. “Wait,” she says, and Albus complies. Her hand drops a little lower, suggestively, eyes questioning.

When Albus nods, she makes quick work of his jeans, reaching in to free his painfully hard cock from his pants. “Can I?” she asks, her meaning clear. Albus almost comes from the thought of it. He manages to nod, and she takes his cock into her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Albus says, closing his eyes. The heat of her mouth is incredible, but it’s nothing compared to the idea of her wanting to give him pleasure like that. Albus’s hands come to tangle in her hair, careful not to pull. “You’re incredible,” he manages to tell her.

She hums an acknowledgement, which only drives him further towards that edge. He’s a little concerned with the speed at which he’s approaching, actually. With some amount of restraint he doesn’t know he had, Albus pulls back.

“Can I fuck you?” he pleads.

Delphini grins, moves farther up the bed. “Yeah,” she says, and he falls into her.

With a wave of her hand, she undresses completely, and he suddenly bare skin feels amazing under his hands. Albus is so desperate to get it in her at this point, kissing her like a starving man. He hastily shoves on a condom, and she take him in hand, lining him up.

“Fuck me like you mean it,” she tells him, which is an instruction he can follow. One hand stays in her hair, and his other pushes her thigh up higher, which she likes if her moans are anything to go by.

Hips snapping hard, Albus loses himself in her. They’re hardly kissing at this point, breathing bitten off curses into each other’s mouth. He’s shaking and hopes Delphini can’t tell. 

“You feel amazing,” he says. “What’s going to make you come?”

Delphini leans up to kiss him, and it turns filthy in an instant. “Touch me,” she says.

Albus slides his hands up her body, slowing his thrusts a little to concentrate. “Here?” he asks, thumbing her nipples. She breathes a moan at his touch. Albus tugs gently. “Is this going to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Delphini tells him, “but don’t stop.”

Albus doesn’t. He rolls his hips into her, using both hands on her breasts now. Delphini’s writhing under him, making him desperate with want. She’s making exquisite noises, making him want to―

He comes with almost no warning, thrusting deep, trying to bury himself in her and stay forever.

“Fuck,” Delphini breathes as Albus shakes through it. He’s still riding the aftershocks when Delphini pushes her hand between their bodies and touches herself. 

“Yeah,” he says, loving that. He bends his head to suck gently on her nipple, still rolling the other between his fingers. She’s so sensitive there, and within a few seconds she’s shivering into an orgasm under his hands.

Albus watches her lose herself, mesmerized, feeling strangely blessed that he gets to witness this. He leans to kiss her as she’s coming through the last of it. She’s beautiful and he tells her so, watching in utter adoration as her eyes flutter open at that and she smiles.

They kiss for another moment, until Albus collapses next to her. She seems to like his head pillowed on her arm, because she keeps them close, runs a curious finger over his lips. It feels like love.

“You’re amazing,” he tells her, kissing the tip of her fingers.

She smiles at that. 

“You should stay tonight,” she says. “I’ll put the calculator here for whenever you want to leave.”

“Like I can go back to work now that I know they’re taking bets on my secret life.”

“That’s hilarious,” she states.

“Definitely helped that a beautiful woman showed up unexpected in the middle of the day. Adds to my mystique,” Albus says.

“Does that happen a lot then?” Delphini asks.

“You’re the only woman I want,” Albus tells her. It’s still light enough to be brushed aside, but he also kind of needs her to know.

“Yeah?” She’s smiling.

“Yeah,” he says. “The other women who show up all the time mean nothing.”

When she laughs, it’s clear and delighted. “Good, I was worried,” she says, still laughing. Maybe that’s meant to be light enough to be brushed aside too.

“Do you want dinner?” she asks. “I cooked.”

“Sure,” Albus says, though it’s actually a while longer until they make it downstairs.

When it’s finally dark and they can’t justify making out on the couch on a weeknight any longer, they head upstairs together. It’s a little awkward. He leaves his boxers on when he climbs into her huge comfortable bed. Delphini sleeps in a t-shirt and knickers, apparently, which is more than enough for Albus’s cock to take an interest, but he tells himself he has work, he has work.

“Come here,” he says, when they’re both under the covers. Delphini turns out the lights with a lift of her hand and shifts into Albus’s arms.

They lay like that a while, both clearly still awake. Delphini plants a small kiss on his neck.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispers.

Albus doesn’t ask what she means. They all know.

“You planned it, though.”

“I planned it really well,” she whispers. “I wasn’t counting on you to be that clever, sending a message through time. God.” She sounds annoyed, like his thwarting of her evil plan was wrong somehow. It does nothing to make him trust her more. 

“Craig―” she says, speaking the name of the child she killed for the first time Albus has heard. “I didn’t think twice,” she admits. “He was in my way.”

Albus freezes. It’s everything they all suspected confirmed out loud. He’s not sure why she’s saying this. “I should go,” he says, sliding his arms away from her.

“I planned it really well,” Delphini says again, a little desperately now. “I spent a year planning, researching. You have no idea. I planned it so well that whoever got hurt ― whoever I killed ― would be just fine in the end. It was all supposed to work out.”

“What?” Albus asks.

“My plan was supposed to work,” she says. “No one was supposed to die. Lily and James Potter wouldn’t have died, Craig wouldn’t have died. Even you still would have been born ― your mom existed when I was going to change the course of history. Your dad was going to grow up with both his parents. _Everyone_ was going to grow up with their parents. I knew everything I did to get back to 1981 was going to be wiped clean with the new version of the world.”

Albus is shaking, grateful they can’t see each other properly.

“Everyone wasn’t going to be okay, Delphini,” Albus says, shaken. “Voldemort was responsible for hundreds of deaths.”

“I know,” she says, her voice shaking, “I know that now. It was so miserable growing up like that. No family, an aunt who barely wanted to see you. I wasn’t given anything, not compassion, not care, not even an education. When I found out who I was, I didn’t care about the legacy, I just saw a way to get the life I’d always wanted.”

Albus closes his eyes, because put like that, he can kind of understand it, and he doesn’t want to.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks.

“Because I want you to trust me.”

Albus sighs, lays back down next to her. He’s in this deep already, and he doesn’t actually want to leave. She rests back against him, they twine their fingers together in the dark. “What are you planning with Hogwarts?” he asks. He’s wondering if there’s anything she could answer that would drive him away.

Delphini’s breathing is the only sound in the room. It shakes as she answers. “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.” And she does sound sorry.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll try to stop me.”


	17. Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphini's attacker strikes again. Someone dies.

Albus snaps into wakefulness at 5:52 am, an ungodly hour on any other day, but today he gets to wake up with _her._

Sunlight fills the room through the half-opened curtains they didn’t close. Delphini’s black hair is the only shadow on the cream-coloured sheets. She doesn’t look more or less beautiful asleep, but it’s still thrilling ― to be allowed to witness this. For all she doesn’t want him knowing where she lives, she must trust him a little.

He wants to kiss her, but he also doesn’t want to wake her up.

His dilemma solves itself when Delphini groans into consciousness a few minutes later when her phone flares into life with its 6 am alarm. She reaches for the phone without opening her eyes, tapping it without looking, encasing them in silence once more.

Voldemort’s daughter cracks open an eye, stares at Albus a second, then moves forward into his arms, her face settling against his neck.

“Morning,” Albus murmurs, pleased.

“Mmm-hmm,” she agrees.

Albus feels his body responding, unbidden. He could absolutely go for a round before work, but he also kind of doesn’t want to break the moment. His fingers wind gently in her hair.

“What time do you need to leave?” Delphini asks. She presses a kiss to Albus’s neck.

His eyes fall shut. She kisses again at his jaw.

“Not yet.” He’s breathless with want already.

He wants her to be on top and she agrees. Her knickers come off, and soon she’s pressing down onto him, radiant in the morning light. Albus takes in the sight of her as she moves. Her hair is a halo of tangles, falling onto her bare shoulders. He meets her thrust for thrust, caressing her hips, thumb skimming over to tease at her clit.

She rides his cock and his thumb into a breathtaking orgasm. The sight of her clenching and shuddering on top of him has Albus following her over, too. He leans up to kiss her as he shakes through it, clinging to her and trying to wring every drop from his climax.

If he’s late to work, it’s not by much.

Francis gives him a very specific look as Albus drops his bag next to his desk. Albus grins back.

He could get used to this, he realizes, as he climbs into bed with her on the third night. They’d been reading in her living room with the fire out for once. July has finally started acting like it, and it’s still hot when they go to bed. It’s almost unbearable after they have sex, but, God, he’ll bear it somehow.

Is he worried? Of course. About himself, about her, about what she might do to the world? It’s frighteningly easy to put it out of his mind when they’re together.

Albus is having lunch with his mum and Lily on Sunday when he gets a text from James.

_Are you coming?_

_??_

_Your girlfriend’s in my kitchen_

Albus has a moment where he feels like he’s missed a step going down the stairs and he’s blind with terror. All he can think is _Not Jamie._

But of course Delphini was going out with Melanie and Alyssa today. And James wouldn’t be texting like that if Delphini was there uninvited.

“You okay?” Ginny asks.

Albus looks up at his mum, catches Lily’s curious expression. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Sorry.”

Ginny looks like she somehow knows it’s about Delphini ― which probably isn’t too much of a jump for anyone who’s been paying attention to Albus. He gets the irrational urge to confess everything to his mum and ask her what she thinks. _What does it mean if she wants me there every night?_ Francis hadn’t been able to really shed light on the situation. “She likes you, mate,” wasn’t helpful when Francis couldn’t be told all the murderous history and why Delphini might be taking a particular interest in the Potter family.

Albus swallows hard before he says anything insane in front of his mother.

“Just Jamie,” he adds. “I’m going to see him after this.” Normal thing to say.

He forces himself not to rush lunch with Mum and Lily. They don’t see each other too often anymore. It will be even less once Lily’s team starts training in a month.

“Tell him the wine glasses he got me from Bali are cursed,” Ginny says, seemingly distracted from the study of her youngest son. “Honestly. Bali. What the hell was your father thinking?”

“It’s apparently a tourist destination for Muggles,” Lily says.

“I find that hard to believe,” Ginny says.

When Albus leaves half an hour later, he knows more about the Indonesian mafia than he ever wanted to. He knows Dad had a rough time as a kid, but he really got _nothing_ out of History of Magic?

James and Samantha have a flat on the eighteenth story ― high enough for a gorgeous view of western London. It’s only slightly larger than Albus and Scorpius’s place, but it’s a corner unit, and the windows on two walls give it the impression of stretching out into the sky.

“Hey, Al,” Samantha says when she opens the door. She’s got a (cursed?) wine glass in hand, and welcomes him in with a one-armed hug.

His eyes go immediately to Delphini, who clearly hasn’t seen him yet. She’s talking to Melanie, eyes alight with interest. Albus fears the fond smile on his face is there for the world to see.

“Hey!” James says when he sees Albus. Delphini turns along with everyone else. Mathieu, Alyssa’s husband, is there along with Melanie, so’s Jeff and Anna, Jamie’s friends in Gryffindor. Albus says hello to everyone, then lets Samantha lead him into the kitchen for booze.

“Most people are having the white,” she’s saying, opening cupboards and looking at her rings each time she does. It’s cute. “But we have beer or diet coke if you’d prefer.”

“Wine is fine, thanks,” Albus says.

Samantha hands him a glass just as Delphini joins them in the kitchen.

“Hey, help yourself to whatever,” Samantha says to her, grabbing more glasses for Anna and Jeff, who apparently also just arrived.

“Here, you go sit,” James says to his wife, coming into the kitchen as well. He kisses his wife’s cheek which is cute, so damn cute. Albus is happy for them. Samantha and James end up carrying out glasses in each of their hands.

Albus doesn’t know if they were intentionally trying to leave him alone with Delphini, but he’s grateful if they were.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at her. He takes a step forward, backing her gently into the counter.

She tilts her head up and they kiss in the tiny galley kitchen. They’d had sex literally that morning, but Albus always feels like he can’t get enough.

The ends of her hair are wet, like she recently showered, as Albus’s hands come up to hold her. 

“How was rock climbing?” he asks, pulling back with just a touch of regret.

“Good,” she says. She’s still looking at his mouth like she’s going to kiss him again. “It was fun. Alyssa will try things even a witch probably wouldn’t dare to.”

“The whole’s family’s like that, I guess,” Albus says, still an inch away.

“Blood tells,” Delphini says, though she doesn’t seem to realize it at first.

Albus blinks.

“Er,” says Delphini, which is the first time Albus has seen her truly at a loss. She’s not smiling anymore.

“Forget it,” Albus says, trying to ignore thinking about anything too closely. “Kiss me.”

She does, thank God. Albus is good at not thinking when she’s around.

They don’t actually get too far in James’s kitchen. It’s realistically only another minute before they rejoin the group in the living room. Samantha and Mathieu are debating about some television show Albus hasn’t seen. He lets himself reach for Delphini’s hand and enjoy the moment, surrounded by friends in a way he isn’t normally.

They’re having a good time until Alyssa gets out of the shower and comes into the living room, toweling her hair. Albus can’t understand why Sam’s face changes like that.

“You were in my closet!” Samantha says, shooting to her feet.

Her sister freezes. “You said I could borrow a shirt,” Alyssa says, confused.

But Sam just races off down the hall, leaving them in a confusion often experienced around Sam and James.

“What did I do?” Alyssa asks James.

James shrugs, but his expression clears a moment later. “Oh,” he says. “She keeps her charm in there.”

“Her what?”

Samantha returns a second later. “Sorry,” she says to Alyssa. “I’m a little paranoid about Delphini’s gift.”

“Oh, sorry,” Alyssa says.

“Wait, what did she get you?” Mathieu asks.

Sam’s eyes widen. “Lyssa didn’t tell you? Oh my God, she got me magic.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Samantha says, throwing a grin at Delphini who smiles back. “Once a year I can take the charm and use magic for the day. I already tried it.”

“Seriously?” Mathieu asks, looking rightly impressed.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” Sam agrees, now nearly glowing in Delphini’s direction.

“Gross,” Jeff says under his breath.

Sam’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me, what?”

“Okay!” Anna says loudly, taking Jeff’s hand. “We don’t need to get into it.”

Jeff looks like he disagrees, but he doesn’t say anything else. Albus feels a little uneasy. Jeff and Anna are both purebloods who know the whole story. Suddenly everyone hanging out like a big happy family seems like less than a great idea.

But the conversation moves on. Melanie complains about the psychology program she’s in. Alyssa assures her that _her_ university would have policies like that.

Albus watches the conversation and lets himself enjoy it. James tops up everyone’s glass a little later. Delphini’s resting her legs over Albus’s on the sofa. It’s fucking magical.

“I was thinking about doing a stir fry with the leftover beef if you wanted,” Albus says quietly to Delphini. “Do you still want me to come tonight?”

Delphini smirks a little. “Yeah,” she replies.

Albus smiles back, brushes a strand of hair away from her face.

Melanie laughs. “Look at you, you guys are worse than Sam and James,” she tells them, delighted.

“Sod off,” Delphini says, grinning.

“It’s cute that you’re expecting already,” Melanie says. James chokes on his wine.

“Ugh,” Delphini says, tossing her head back. It’s clearly a long-standing joke between the two. “I’m not pregnant. Maybe I just don’t want a drink.”

“Because you’re pregnant,” Melanie says. They’re both laughing now.

“Please. It’s probably a parole condition,” Jeff says, and the room quiets.

Maybe it could have been ignored, brushed off somehow, but Delphini’s smile slides off. She looks blank and stunned.

“You’re on parole?” Melanie asks, not unkindly.

“I mean, it’s not really our business,” says Alyssa. She laughs a little. “I mean, unless you killed somebody.”

Delphini closes her eyes. Albus wants to hit Jeff in his stupid face.

“Yeah,” Delphini says after a moment. “I did.”

“What?” Alyssa asks. She looks at her sister. “Did you know?”

Looking as serious as Albus has ever seen her, Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“What?” Alyssa asks, looking lost.

“Jeff, did you have to?” James asks. He sounds annoyed.

Jeff looks annoyed right back. “You don’t think anyone had the right to know? Your own father would probably freak out if he knew she was in your living room.”

“Isn’t James’s father famous in your world?” Alyssa asks. “He killed some evil wizard?”

James looks at Albus who has no fucking clue how to fix this. They’re not used to telling the story the whole world knew before they were even born. The irony of wishing people didn’t know everything about his family does not miss him.

“Do you want to go?” Albus asks Delphini, or tries to ask her, because the side of the wall gets blasted open, and Albus’s words are lost in the explosion.

Albus grabs his wand to apparate and remembers there are Muggles who can’t.

The room is filled with debris, wind, and Albus can hardly see through the dust. Delphini has Melanie pulled in tight to her side. Alyssa, and Mathieu are pressed flat against the back wall in terror. Jeff and Anna are presumably gone.

Albus feels Delphini shaking his arm after a moment of wondering what the sensation is. She’s saying something to him, but he can’t hear her. James. Where’s James?

The blinding green of the killing curse fills the room. Albus and Delphini hit the floor, Melanie getting dragged down with them. Albus watches Delphini lift a hand, and Melanie is gone.

“James was by the window,” Albus shouts at Delphini as the room goes green again. “I can’t leave him.”

“I’ll get him.” Delphini shouts back.

Albus shakes his head. “They’re here for you. Take Alyssa and Mathieu and get out of here.”

So Albus crawls through the debris to where he remembered seeing James and Samantha. Samantha ― fuck, her too.

Albus uses his wand to begin moving the rubble, being careful to stay near the ground. It’s slow going, especially since he was never amazing at levitating charms. He can hear Auntie’s voice as she tried to help him at twelve years old.

“Wingardium leviosa,” he chants as the ceiling falls around him. Please be alive. “Wingardium leviosa.”

He finds James first.

“Oh God, oh God, _Jamie_.”

Albus kneels in order to pull a larger piece of drywall off his brother’s legs. It’s faster than the stupid charm. James is awake, but groggy. He’s pushing himself into a sitting position, looking around. 

Albus gets an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “It’s okay―”

“Avada Kedavra!”

The killing curse comes straight at them. Albus barely has time to think that he recognizes the voice before a figure flies in front of them, and the beam of light hits Jeff instead.

“No,” Albus yells, but it’s obviously ages too late. Jeff’s dead eyes stare up at Albus as though accusing.

Delphini’s back at his side, grabbing him hard. “Take James!” she yells. “I’ll get Sam. You can’t come back, Albus!”

“But―”

“Promise me this time!”

Albus doesn’t understand what she’s saying, only that the chaos whirls into blackness and he and James reappear in St. Mungo’s emergency room.

“Oh my God, it’s the Potter boys,” someone says.

Albus’s eyes are still searching for Delphini, who is miles away now, before he really recognizes he’s in a hospital. Hospital staff and patients stare down at the two men in shock.

“Help him,” Albus says.

After that it’s a whirl of activity. A team of wizards get James on a stretcher, and Albus is able to follow them.

A nurse is asking what happened, what happened, but Albus can’t think yet, he’s waiting for―

“Sam,” James croaks. “Albus, where’s Sam?”

“She’s coming,” Albus says, sure in a way that’s absolutely required for him to keep calm. “Delphini’s getting her. They’ll be fine.” Delphini asked him not to come back. She said she’d handle it. She is actually as powerful as she thinks she is. So she’ll be fine.

“Al, wait, let go of me,” James snaps at a nurse.

“Jamie, lie down,” Albus pleads.

“Sir, we have to ask that you―”

“No,” James insists. “I have to get my _wife_―”

“James―”

Albus is about to lose his shit himself. His calm is tied to keeping James on that stretcher. He’s about to stun him when screams fill the emergency room behind them.

James makes a break for it.

“Fuck,” Albus says, and runs after James. James isn’t actually going too fast, so Albus gets his arm under James’s. “Come on,” he says, hauling them both towards the growing commotion.

How reporters got in the emergency room, Albus doesn’t know. The flash of cameras greet him as he and James stagger into the waiting room.

“Albus, how many people has she killed now?”

“Who else knew Riddle was still alive?”

“Is Harry Potter helping her evade the law?”

“How do you feel about your Dad and Draco Malfoy?”

“Fuck,” Albus repeats.

James makes a wounded sound next to him. “Al―” he chokes.

Albus follows his gaze. Three figures are in the middle of a charred circle, as though they were summoned straight from hell. Delphini alone is conscious, crouching with Samantha’s head in her hands, and beside Jeff, who is unmistakably dead.

The mediwizards catch up to them. “Mr. Potter, we really have to insist you―”

James whirls on them. “My wife,” he demands, pointing. “She needs a Healer.”

The healers seem to notice Voldemort’s daughter in the center of the chaos. Delphini looks up at them, eyes dark from the fight. “Help her,” she demands, her voice wavering on an almost unhuman frequency.

A brave nurse rushes forward and gently takes Sam from Delphini’s arms, gets her on a stretcher. James detaches from Albus with difficulty and leans against the side. “What happened to her? Is she okay? Sam, love, you’re okay.”

James and the team of staff rush back through the doors where the reporters cannot go, it seems.

Albus drops to his knees in front of Delphini and she reaches for him. 

“Are you okay?” he manages to say as she pulls him in. Their foreheads touch. The paparazzi loves it.

“I am actually as powerful―”

He cuts her off with a kiss. “You are,” he says into the kiss. “You are.”

He and Delphini clutch each other as they kiss there on the floor. Voices intensify around them, but Albus isn’t really listening. He does spare a thought for anyone unlucky enough to be in the waiting room for an actual medical problem.

“I have to see James. Can you come with me?”

Delphini hesitates. Drops her eyes down to the dead body next to her.

“He saved me and Jamie,” Albus says.

“I saw,” Delphini says. Her voice is raw as though from screaming.

“Did you get the attacker?” Albus asks.

Delphini shakes her head.

“Come on, the Aurors will be here soon enough,” Albus says as they rise to their feet. He conjures a blanket and lays it on top of Jeff. Red ― for Gryffindor.

The noise abruptly quiets when they reach the double doors away from the waiting room. Albus is thankful. They’ve escaped whatever ― whoever ― that was, but there’s still another fight ahead of them.

A nurse at a desk waves them down a new hall where they see James behind a glass window. Albus knocks. James turns, face blank with terror. Sam hasn’t woken up then, yet. Beside James is a curtain where the Healers are working.

When James turns back towards Sam, Albus pulls out his phone. It’s miraculously still in his pocket. He curses when he remembers about magic and technology.

“Can you ― my phone won’t work here,” Albus says to Delphini. “My parents should know. Can you send a Patronus?”

Delphini gives him a look like he’s forgotten about her relationship with Harry fucking Potter, but Albus _hasn’t_, he just needs this to happen, doesn’t want to go through the nurse and their floo and whatever else. Delphini seems to see all this on his face, because she doesn’t say a word, just closes her eyes. After a moment, a white wolf erupts from her hand and disappears down the hall.

“Thank you,” he says.

Delphini doesn’t reply, just conjures a small sofa for them, and they sink down together. They’re still holding hands, pressed tight together. Minutes tick by like hours. The back of James’s head reappears at the window a few times, but he doesn’t notice them.

Even though it’s around a corner and at the end of another long hall, Albus can hear the exact moment Harry Potter opens the double doors from the waiting room. The press having a collective orgasm is impossible to miss.

Harry, Ginny and Lily hurry down the hall. Not letting go of Delphini’s hand, Albus stands. He sees Dad go ever-so-slightly cross-eyed with horror at their joined hands, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“What happened?” Ginny demands.

“We were attacked,” Albus says. “They ripped the side of Jamie’s building off. The killing curse. Dad―”

Harry shakes his head helplessly. “Al, honey. They’re saying one dead. Was it Jeff Atherton?”

Albus nods.

“Fuck,” says Ginny. They’d all known Jeff for over a decade.

“Where’s James?” Harry asks.

“Where’s Sam?” Lily adds.

Albus looks over at the window. They all turn. James’s head is just visible through the glass.

“Sam was unconscious,” Albus says. “I don’t know what happened.”

“And―” Ginny nods to Delphini, clearly biting off the word _her._ “―you? Were you there?”

Delphini looks horrified to be addressed, but she clears her throat. “Yeah,” she says, voice still hoarse. “Someone came to kill me. Samantha got hurt in the fight.”

Harry sends off a Patronus to Hermione’s office at once. Albus wants to blame Dad for not wanting to deal with Delphini himself, but he’s honestly relieved it’s Hermione instead.

A wave of Lily’s wand extends the bench, and the whole family ― and Delphini ― sit to wait. Albus’s sanity is ridiculously dependent on Delphini’s hand in his. It can’t be easy for her to sit here with the Potters. It’s after the third time Delphini checks her phone that Albus wonders if it’s something else.

“What’s up?” he whispers.

Delphini seems annoyed with the phone itself. “I keep forgetting it won’t work here.”

“What are you looking at?” Albus asks.

Delphini’s eyes stay on her black screen. “Melanie,” she says. Then coughs. “And Alyssa. Mostly Alyssa. She should know about Sam.”

“The Aurors can find Alyssa when they get here,” Harry says, still looking at the window in front of them. “How many Muggles were there?”

“Four including Sam,” Albus says. “But they all knew about wizards, so they won’t have to be obliviated, right?”

“Yeah,” says Harry, “I mean ― probably. It’s not my department.”

Delphini is tense at Albus’s side.

“Do you want that?” Albus asks her gently. “That way they won’t remember what Jeff said.” He’s not positive about exactly what she thought of Jeff telling all her secrets like that, but he can guess.

Delphini looks honestly anguished in the harsh light of the hospital, telling Albus he’s right. Her lips part, but part of Albus knows before she even says it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry glances over to them, not even pretending like he can’t hear every word. For a moment he and Albus look at each other. They’re sitting right next to each other, but it might as well be on the other side of the planet for all the distance in that look.

Delphini nudges him, bringing Albus back to her, always back to her. She angles her phone towards him to show him the text message that she’s typed, and it doesn’t matter that it won’t send.

_Should I go? Honestly._

Albus turns towards her a little too quickly, too desperately. She sees it before he can even speak. She turns off the screen and shakes her head immediately. “Forget it,” she says.

“Please stay,” he whispers anyway.

Delphini nods. She dares even to press a kiss into his shoulder right there in front of Harry Potter, whose jaw clenching is near audible.

Time passes slowly in the brightly lit corridor. Hermione and the Aurors appear. Everyone takes a turn to talk with them in private. Everyone returns to the awful bench right after. Time passes some more.

James finally appears. Sam’s okay. They want to keep her overnight, but they’re not worried. 

“And you?” Albus asks.

James looks at him. “Don’t,” he says.

“What?” Harry asks.

“James is hurt too,” Albus says. “Dad, I think he hit his head.”

“I’m fine,” James insists. “I have to go back to Sam. You can all go home. I’ll text you when we’re out.”

He disappears again behind the glass, and Albus wheels on his parents. “You have to make him see a Healer now that Sam’s okay.”

Ginny nods. “I’ll stay. You should all go.”

“I’m staying too,” Harry says.

“I can get the guest room made up for Jamie and Sam when they get out,” Lily says to their mum.

Albus walks with Lily and Delphini back down the corridor to where the apparation point is. 

“Are you okay?” Lily asks before they go.

“Not sure,” Albus says.

Lily nods, waits.

There’s a moment before Albus figures it out. Delphini seems to realize at the same time. 

“Oh, me?” Delphini asks.

“Yeah,” Lily says. “Someone’s trying to kill you. Are you doing all right?”

“Fine,” Delphini says. A pause. “Thanks.” It’s awkward, but it’s there. Albus rubs his thumb over hers.

Lily apparates away first. Delphini takes Albus back to her place.

“Fuck,” says Albus as they land in the main hall of _her parents’_ house. He sits on the floor exactly where he is.

Delphini sits too ― straddles his legs and brings her lips down to his. Albus doesn’t know why this fixes so much of what happened ― James, Sam, Jeff ― but it does. He’s tangling his fingers into her hair and pulling her against him.

Their kiss deepens. He’s grateful she’s alive and he’s alive and they made it out together. He wants to lose himself in her and forget about everything.

But it doesn’t happen like that.

What does happen is that there’s a thud from the door off the main hall that Albus hasn’t been in. He and Delphini are on their feet in an instant.

Albus thinks about leaving, thinks about getting the Aurors. But James was hurt. Sam nearly died. Jeff―

He and Delphini creep towards the door. Albus has a wand, not that he’ll need it when Delphini has herself. _I_ am _magic_, he remembers her saying. He could barely stun a cockroach in fifth year.

What happens is this. Delphini vanishes the door in front of them so the intruder won’t hear the door opening. Albus has the stunning spell ready to go in the extremely unlikely case that Delphini falters.

Delphini falters.

Albus’s spell hits its mark.

Scorpius falls to the floor unconscious.


	18. Orphans and Those Who Aren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus says I love you.

“Wait, Delphi, stop!” Albus shouts, which is absurd because she hasn’t moved. Albus was the one to knock Scorpius out. All the outburst accomplishes is reminding Delphini that Albus sees her as a threat.

Which he does.

“Shit,” Albus says. “Shit, shit, shit.” The little office is all dark wood and near-black carpet, and the bright white that is Scorpius’s hair and skin against it all. At least the carpet seemed to have cushioned his fall a little.

Scorpius is unconscious, but still manages to look accusing. Albus turns to Delphini in desperation. “Can you tie him up?”

Delphini gives him an unreadable look and says nothing, which Albus takes to mean she will not. After a failed attempt (in front of Delphini) Albus manages the spell to wrap ropes around Scorpius’s wrists. He ties his wrists to the heavy desk that dominates most of the room.

“Can you wake him?” Albus asks, not trusting himself to get that right either.

Delphini simply leaves.

“Shit, _shit_,” Albus says. “What the hell, Scorpius?” he whispers to Scorpius’s slack face.

Albus tests the ropes to make sure they’re not too tight because he’s a fucking coward. He takes Scorpius’s wand, then goes to find Delphini.

She’s in the living room on her phone.

“Is he awake?” she asks, not looking up.

“No. I don’t know how long it will be,” Albus says. Probably not long with the way he casts spells.

Delphini says nothing, still typing away at her phone.

“Who are you texting?” Albus asks.

Delphini still doesn’t look at him. “Melanie,” she says shortly.

“Is she okay?” Albus asks, stunned that he forgot about the Muggles at the attack. In his defense, it’s been a hell of a day.

“I think so.”

“Is Alyssa and ―”

“She won’t tell me,” Delphini says.

“Wait, why?” he asks. Then Albus remembers.

_It’s probably a parole condition._

And now Delphini’s friends don’t want to talk to her. Because she murdered a child.

“I’m sorry,” Albus says.

“Don’t,” Delphini says quietly.

Albus shuts up. In an act of great kindness, Scorpius screams.

He’s managed to get to his feet by the time Albus and Delphini enter the room again. Scorpius whips around to see them.

“Albus,” he chokes.

“Scorpius, I swear to God,” Albus says.

“This isn’t what you think it is,” Scorpius says.

“So you’re not secretly planning a birthday surprise,” Albus says.

“Do you _see_ any ladies in giant cakes?” Scorpius counters.

Delphini shifts at Albus’s side and he realizes how this must look to her.

“Scorpius, someone has been trying to kill Delphini,” Albus says.

“Well, it’s not _me_,” Scorpius snaps, still tied to the table and a little hunched over.

Albus wants to pull his own hair out. “How do we _know_ that?”

“Look,” Scorpius says, gesturing with chin since his hands can’t move much higher than his knees. “Look at what she’s been doing.”

Delphini sucks in a breath.

“What?” Albus asks. “How does that prove it’s not you?”

“I’m not trying to kill anyone, you peanut. Just listen―”

There’s a movement from Delphini and the contents of the desk vanish. Albus hadn’t honestly given a single thought to the books and papers that were there a second ago. He meets Delphini’s wide eyes in confusion.

_Because you’ll try to stop me._

Albus feels the bottom drop out of his ability to cope with this day any longer.

“What are you talking about?” he asks Scorpius.

“She’s been in contact with Professor McGonagall,” Scorpius says. “Al ― she wants a job at Hogwarts.”

When Albus was very little, he and his siblings would play school sometimes. James always got to be the Headmaster, Lily always wanted to be an owl, and Albus would switch jobs ― sometimes a student, sometimes a ghost, once, the giant squid. In their games, they’d go to Charms and Divination (the owl was unexpectedly good in Potions), they’d award the house cup to different houses (sometimes made-up ones), and Death Eaters would always attack the school.

Maybe growing up with the parents they had, it was natural for children to try to make sense of the stories they’d been told like they did. Dad didn’t like it. He’d tell them about his first flying lesson at school and try to get them to change the main arc in their make-believe. It sometimes worked, but it never really took. Next time would be the same. Death Eaters would attack, and the heroic Headmaster and student and owl would defend the school, sometimes with their very lives.

Once, Albus overheard his parents talking about it. Dad was worried.

“They’re just kids,” Mum said. “I played car crash with Ron after the first time Dad told us about cars. Don’t worry. Hogwarts is safe now. It’s over.”

But it wasn’t over. Six years ago, Voldemort came back to Hogwarts ― a place evil should never have been. Dad had to fight again. A child died.

“No,” Albus whispers, whether to Scorpius or Delphini, he doesn’t know. Neither. Both. She can’t go back there. Voldemort can never go back there.

“I mean, it doesn’t look like McGonagall wants to meet with her judging by her reply, but―”

“You want―” Albus says, turning to Delphini. His breath is a little shallow. “You _can’t_.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Delphini snaps at him, but her eyes don’t match her tone. She looks afraid. Albus suspects his own fear is mirrored right back at her.

“This is who you want so badly?” Scorpius says. “You guys look so happy together.”

“Shut _up_, Scorpius,” Albus shouts. “How did you even get here?”

Scorpius jerks his head again to the portkey calculator that has fallen to the floor under a chair. “My dad said James was in the hospital. I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while. I just came to see what she was doing, and I’m glad I did!”

“So you took advantage of _my brother’s injuries_ to spy on us?” Albus demands, still shouting.

“Enough!” Delphini shouts over him. “Stop it.”

Scorpius’s mouth falls open in shock as Delphini waves a hand and the ropes tying him to the desk vanish.

“Give him his wand, Albus,” Delphini orders.

Albus hands it over, too shaken to think too hard about it. Scorpius takes it, looks at it for a moment.

“I remember when I was your brother,” he says, more to the wand than Albus.

Albus doesn’t have anything for that.

“If I see you here again,” Delphini says, low.

Scorpius sneers at her, looking every inch a Malfoy, something he rarely does. “You’ll what?”

Delphini doesn’t say anything. They stare at each other a moment, then Scorpius disapparates without looking back at Albus.

The remaining silence is deafening.

“You ― let him go?” Albus asks.

“You’re surprised?” Delphini snaps, springing into action. She busies herself at the giant desk in the office, opening drawers, taking out papers, doing a lot of nothing.

“Surprised you didn’t call the Aurors,” Albus says. “He could be charged for this.”

Delphini levels a look in his direction ― but not, Albus notes, directly at him. “Yes, Scorpius Malfoy is going to prison for a minor crime in which no one got hurt. I don’t know which connection would get him more favour ― his family’s money, his future mother-in-law, or his future step-dad.”

Albus says nothing. This is the second time one of Albus’s loved ones will have gotten away with a crime against Delphini.

They were laughing with James and Sam not five hours ago.

“Delphi,” Albus says quietly, “stop.”

Delphini’s hurried movements still, but her gaze doesn’t leave the papers in front of her. Albus doesn’t think she’s seeing them at all.

“It’s not what you think,” she says, still to the desk.

“What do I think?” Albus asks.

“What they’re all thinking. What Melanie and Alyssa are thinking. What your father thinks of me.”

Albus wants to touch her, but he doesn’t dare. “I am not my father,” he tells her.

Delphini’s hair has fallen between them, hiding her face. There’s no warning when she lets out a soft sob.

Albus puts a hand over his mouth. There’s been so much pain today. 

“Neither am I,” she says, choking around the words.

Albus aches with how much he wants that to be true.

“Delphi…” he says.

And what does he follow that with?

“Come to bed,” he says tries. “Today has been horrible.”

“Yes,” Delphini agrees, though her voice is distant.

With not an inconsiderable amount of courage, Albus moves forward and slips his hand into hers. “Let’s go,” he says softly into her ear.

She moves away, unlocking their hands. 

Albus doesn’t follow her, but he does try again. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

And finally, she does look at him. She’s almost smiling, but the expression has come out twisted. “No, _you_ don’t have to do this alone,” she says. She’s shaking with the effort of keeping her voice level and it’s not even working. “You have a family ― friends so worried about you they’ll even break into _you know who’s_ house.” She gives a sort of laugh. It sounds awful.

“You have me,” Albus says, sure about that if nothing else.

“The thing about being an orphan―” Delphini says, talking again to the desk instead of looking at Albus. “―is you always do things alone. I never learned how to cry in someone’s arms.”

Delphini rests her hands on the desk, letting it take her weight. She drops her head. “Go away now, Albus,” she says, raising a hand.

For a second Albus looks at her hand thinking she’s going to make him reappear in his bedroom or something. Instead the calculator floats towards Albus, hangs in the air before him. He looks at Delphini, surprised.

“Tomorrow?” he asks.

She nods, and his fingers close around the portkey.  
~*~

Ginny Weasley’s house is in a strange state of being very full and very quiet.

James and Samantha are in one of the bedrooms, hopefully asleep. Ginny and Oliver are in the kitchen with the Cheungs having an intense whispered conversation about the ethics of inviting a murderer to a wedding, and Harry has just escaped to the living room where Draco has been hiding.

“Ginny said I wasn’t helping,” Harry says by way of explanation.

“It’s not like she hurt anyone at the wedding,” Draco says, standing.

“That’s what Ginny told them.”

Draco looks suddenly suspicious. “And what did you say about Delphini?”

Harry feels suddenly like he’s explaining himself to Hermione. “Well, you know I’m not going to _defend_ her. I didn’t think she should have been invited either, but it wasn’t _my_ wedding.”

“Precisely,” Draco says, coughing a little. “If they have a problem, they should take it up with Sam and James.”

The tips of Draco’s ears are suddenly very red. Harry frowns, trying to replay the last bit of the conversation in his head.

“Though hopefully not tonight,” Harry says, shutting his eyes. They were at the hospital another two hours after Albus and _Delphini_ left. James finally allowed a Healer to look at him. He has a concussion and was ordered to stay in bed. Sam made a full recovery, though she was also advised to take it easy.

“Do you think they’re going to insist that Sam leave?” Draco asks, drawing Harry out of some horrible spiraling thoughts.

“Can’t really do, though, can they?” Harry says, thinking out loud. “Ginny’s not going to let them upstairs even if they want. They’re not even her next of kin anymore. It’s James.”

“At least Delphini isn’t here,” Draco says.

Harry’s answering laugh is just this side of hysterical. Draco looks like he’s going to address this, except Albus apparates into the middle of the room.

“Shit, they can’t see you,” Harry says, and pushes Albus out the door into the hallway.

“Dad, what? Stop.” Albus tries to shrug Harry off, but Harry’s already backed off.

“The Sam’s parents are here,” Harry says quickly. “Delphini’s not with you, is she?”

“What? No.”

Draco joins them in the hallway.

“They heard the apparation,” he says.

Harry nods, about to thank Draco, get Albus into a toilet or something, but years of Auror training has given a very good idea about what someone looks like out of the corner of his eye when they’re about to throw a punch.

He catches Albus’s fist a just in time.

“What the fuck?” Draco asks, who only just noticed that he escaped being hit by another member of the Weasley family.

“You fucking told Scorpius Delphini wouldn’t be home,” Albus says. “You used our family’s tragedy to get revenge? Was it you who hurt Sam and James too?”

“Albus, stop!” Harry shouts, holding Albus back. He glances back at Draco who ― bless him ― shoots a silencing spell towards the ceiling where the bedrooms are. “What are you talking about? Draco didn’t do this.”

“How do you know?” Albus demands, yelling in Harry’s ear. “Were you with him this afternoon when we were attacked? You showed up at the hospital alone, so I assume not.”

“I wasn’t with the entire planet this afternoon, it doesn’t mean everyone’s a suspect,” Harry shouts back.

“And you’re trying so very hard to find out who’s trying to kill Delphini?” Albus snarls back.

Ginny and the Cheungs have joined them in the hallway which is fucking great.

“Stop this!” Ginny commands. “What is going on?”

Albus breaks free of Harry’s grip, but steps back from the group instead of going at Draco again. The Cheungs are speaking quietly to each other in Cantonese, but Harry doesn’t need to understand the language to understand the judgement being leveled at his family right now.

“Scorpius just broke into Delphini’s house,” Albus says. “Draco told him she wouldn’t be home.”

“Scorpius what?” Draco asks, going, if possible, paler. “I didn’t tell him that. I said James was in the hospital. He loves Jamie, you know that.”

“Draco didn’t attack anyone,” Harry tells Albus firmly.

“Neither did Scorpius,” Draco says. “There must be a mistake.”

Albus is only looking at Harry. “He’s a Death Eater.”

“Oh,” says Harry, who’s abruptly had enough, “right. So Draco made some mistakes at sixteen, and it’s a problem, but you can be with a _literal murderer_ and it’s fine.”

“You never even gave her a chance,” Albus says.

“You’ve given her enough for all of us,” Harry returns.

“Harry James Potter, get out of this house.”

Harry’s eyes close. “Gin―” he starts.

“No,” she says. “Even if I thought there was some world in which you got a say over who Albus dates, you cannot be having this conversation with James and Samantha upstairs.”

She’s right and Harry knows it.

“I put a silencing charm on your second floor,” Draco tells her quietly.

“Thank you, Draco,” Ginny says, not looking away from Harry for an instant. “Harry, if you would.”

“You too,” Ginny adds to the Cheungs, not particularly kindly. “I’ll text everyone when they wake up.”

Harry wastes no time in leaving, Draco right behind him. The Cheungs have their SUV parked right in front. They wish Harry a good night, but he can tell their heart isn’t in it. Harry’s thinking his golf game with Shui next weekend probably isn’t happening. He wouldn’t blame them if they never spoke to him again.

Thank all the gods and then some that the press don’t camp outside of Ginny’s house anymore.

“Er, where’s the closest apparation point?” Draco asks. It’s near sunset, but the clouds are enough to make it feel later than it is.

“Fuck,” Harry says. Ginny lives on a fairly busy street, frustratingly void of any dark alleys for convenient disapparation. They were going to have to walk.

“We could take a bus,” Draco says, over-pronouncing the word just a little. It’s adorable enough to make Harry relax a little.

“Yeah, we’d need Muggle money for that, and also to have any idea of where the bus would take us,” Harry says, reaching out for Draco’s hand and smiling when he finds it. “Plus your first bus trip should be special.”

“It’s not my first―”

Harry just laughs. “It’s probably a kilometer to a park. We’ll find a place.”

Draco makes a sound of frustration. “And go see Scorpius.”

Harry stops laughing. “And go see Scorpius,” he agrees.

~*~

Oliver makes himself scarce, which Albus is thankful for. His mother gestures to the living room where Albus sinks into the sofa across from window. It’s still light at this time of night in July, but Albus just wants to sleep.

“What happened?” Ginny asks gently, sitting down next to him.

Albus tells her.

Ginny is silent when Albus finishes. Halfway through the whole mess of Albus’s life, she’d levitated a teapot into the room and Albus stares at his mug as he waits for his mother’s response.

“Do you really think it’s Scorpius?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” Albus says. “No. Do you?”

Ginny shrugs a little. “I don’t think it’s either of them,” she says, meaning Draco. Albus is suddenly horrified that he tried to punch Dad’s boyfriend. It’s humiliating.

“I should apologize to Draco,” Albus says.

“You should _not_,” Ginny says.

“But―”

“I mean, probably,” Ginny amends. “But not tonight. Albus. This is a lot.”

“It’s a disaster, right?” Albus says. “This stinking dumpster fire that is my life.”

“No, but good visual,” Ginny says with a small teasing smile.

“Mum―”

“I can’t imagine it’s easy being in love with Voldemort’s daughter,” Ginny says.

“_Mum―_”

“No, really, Albus, don’t pretend, it’s obvious to the whole world―”

Albus chokes.

“―But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m not going to tell you what to do, honey. I don’t think she’s the worst thing to ever happen to you. Or. Well, she is ― she _was_ ― but not anymore, I don’t think.”

Albus groans, closes his eyes. He’d be lying if he said this isn’t exactly what he wants to hear.

“What about Hogwarts? What’s she planning?” Albus asks.

“I don’t know, maybe she just wants a job.”

“She _has_ a job,” Albus points out, though he doesn’t actually know what it is. Francis thinks she’s a doctor, which is bizarre enough to be true. “And she has money now. She doesn’t need a job there.”

Ginny doesn’t seem too concerned, which is a fucking Gryffindor trait if Albus ever saw one. “Maybe she just thinks she’d be good at it. She probably would be. Not that she’d ever get it with a criminal background.”

“She killed a kid,” Albus says to the bottom of his mug.

“Yes,” Ginny agrees.

“And you don’t think I should stop seeing her. Even though literally everyone else thinks so.”

Ginny wraps an arm around her son. Albus lets his head fall onto her shoulder. “I’m not everyone else,” she says. “I’m your mother.”

_ I never learned how to cry in someone’s arms._

“Mum?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Albus is tucked into Ginny now, and he can’t see her face, but he hears the smile in her voice when she answers. “I love you too, baby.” She gently pets Albus’s unruly black hair. “So much.”


End file.
